


Genius and Geniality

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (Season 6B)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidnapped from their everyday lives, Victoria and Zoë have been sent to Regency England to seek out the Doctor. How will they cope with a world of genteel manners, balls, elopements, and the threat of imminent fiery destruction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Withybridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two mysterious and beautiful strangers make their entrance.

It was a summer day in England, some time in the early years of the nineteenth century. The countryside surrounding the village of Withybridge basked in the noon sunlight. It seemed that in the gentle warmth, nothing moved. Labourers leaned on fences; cattle stood in their herds; and in a nearby patch of woodland, the very birds seemed disinclined to do more than perch on trees. The wood itself was unremarkable. Its like could be seen all over England, and on this day, as on so many other days, it presented an appearance of changelessness. 

With an almost musical susurration, a crumbling stone building appeared out of thin air close to the edge of the woodland. In form it was so artistically ruined that it was impossible to conceive of its ever having been whole; the weathered buttresses, the windows that could never have held glass, the niches lined with seashells, the exquisitely placed gargoyles made it abundantly clear that this was nothing more nor less than a folly, the whim of some landscape gardener. 

As the echoes of the structure's arrival died away, a Coade statue of a druid, which occupied a prominent niche on the southern side, swung back revealing an archway leading into darkness. From this archway three women emerged. The first two were superficially similar: petite, attractive young ladies of perhaps twenty years of age. As far as could be seen under their bonnets, their hair was dark and elaborately styled in the latest fashion then in vogue in Bath and London; their clothes, too, would not have disgraced the wealthiest ladies of fashion in those cities. One gazed around with an expression of liveliest curiosity, while her companion, who had a slight advantage in height and whose figure was perhaps a little more shapely, seemed apprehensive. Each carried a carpet bag in one hand, a hatbox in the other. 

The third new arrival was more striking. Overtopping the other two by a head, and clad in a simple black cloak, she gave their surroundings the cursory glance of one who owned all she surveyed, and nodded briefly. 

"This will do," she said. "If I don't hear from you in four days, I shall assume you have failed. Is there anything you want to ask me?" 

"I think you've covered everything," the shorter girl answered. 

"Then... good luck." And with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the folly, her cloak billowing behind her. The druid returned to his niche, and almost immediately the folly faded away, with the same rippling sound as when it had arrived. 

For a little time, the two new arrivals stood side by side, one surveying the sunlit woodland, the cows grazing in the meadows, and the distant hills, while the other seemed more interested in the ground at her feet. 

"A euro for your thoughts," the shorter girl said. On receiving no immediate answer, she added "Victoria?" 

Victoria looked up unhappily. 

"We haven't got any time to waste, I know," she said. "But it's just... everything has happened so quickly today. And I don't know where to start." 

"Cariana said there was a village somewhere round here. I suppose we could make a start by finding it." 

"Yes. That would be something." Victoria took a deep breath, and seemed to notice her surroundings for the first time. 

"It's lovely here," she said. "So peaceful. Don't you think so?" 

"I suppose so, if you like that sort of thing." 

"Zoë! You can't deny that the view's beautiful." 

Zoë gave a reluctant half-smile. 

"No," she said. "Aesthetically, I can't. But it's a bit inconvenient for us. We're not really dressed for a country walk, are we?" 

Victoria lifted her skirt slightly and looked at her shoes. Like the rest of her outfit, they would not have been out of place at Carlton House; but they had not been designed for robustness. 

"I suppose not," she admitted. 

"Right." Zoë pointed out over the meadow. "So we'll have to keep out of that field. It looks muddy, it's full of cows, and I don't see how we could get across that stream." 

"Are you afraid of cows?" Victoria asked, slightly surprised. 

"I don't trust animals. You can't reason with them." 

"Then we'll have to go through the wood." 

"Yes. If the brambles don't get us, the hawthorn probably will." 

This time, Victoria managed to raise a smile. "Faint heart never won fair maid. Look. I'm sure that's a path over there. Perhaps it leads somewhere." 

The two set off. The path — for such it certainly was — was sufficiently firm, level and dry not to present a challenge to their footwear, and under the shade of the trees conditions were pleasantly cool. 

"Anyway, I don't have a faint heart," Zoë said, once they had walked a little way. "I just think these clothes are terribly impractical, and as for the underwear..." 

"You've said that about four times so far today," Victoria said, perhaps a little more hastily than was necessary. 

"Well, I said it because it's true. And so's this hairdo." 

Victoria smiled. "I still saw you admiring it in the mirror." 

"Oh, Victoria!" 

"Anyway, you couldn't have worn that— that thing—" 

"Jumpsuit. It's very comfortable. You should try one." 

"Maybe I will, if I ever visit your space station. But if the people of this time saw you wearing one, you'd probably have caused a riot and been locked up as a madwoman. Don't you know anything about this period?" 

"Just what we learnt in primary school." Her tone became more mechanical, as if she were a database disgorging facts with little understanding of their meaning. "Regency, England. Noted for war with France, rural unrest, the beginnings of industrialisation — mainly located in the North — neoclassical architecture, romantic novels by authors such as Jane Austen, Maria Edgeworth..." 

"Have you read any of them?" 

"No." The admission sounded reluctant. "They aren't really encouraged in my time. Nothing's considered good unless it's new." 

"Then your education was sadly neglected." 

Zoë made a face, and, briefly, seemed to be toying with the idea of detailing all the practical benefits that she had gained from her education. Victoria swiftly decided that a change of subject was required, and cleared her throat. 

"If we are to work together, we should know more about each other," she said. "I presume Cariana kidnapped you, as she did me?" 

"That's right. One moment I was doing an orbital projection, the next I was in that holding area with you." 

"And I was writing an essay." Victoria sighed. "It feels as if it was years ago." 

"More like a hundred and fifty years in the future, surely?" 

"That isn't what I meant." Victoria came to a halt. A slight gap in the trees had opened up, and the distant outlines of buildings could be seen. "I think we've found the village," she said. "Now what do we do?" 

Zoë set down her luggage. "Obviously the first thing to do is get in touch with the local police." 

"There won't be any." 

"There won't—" Zoë put her fingers to her temples. "Police. Metropolitan Police Act, 1829. County Police Act, 1839... No, there won't, will there? And of course there won't be any security scanners or anything." Her eyes widened. "People can just come and go as they like and there's no way of tracing them." 

Victoria put her own luggage down. "Are you all right?" 

"Yes. It's just beginning to sink in. I know hardly anything about this time — what facilities they have, or don't have. Was it like this for you, the first time you went to another era?" 

"I'd rather not talk about that." Victoria's voice shook slightly. "Travelling with the Doctor wasn't all fun and games, you know." 

"Sorry. It's just that you did travel with the Doctor, and I didn't. This is all new to me, but you know what sort of thing to expect." 

Victoria shook her head. "When I was travelling with the Doctor, he was the one who came up with nearly all the plans and the ideas and the inventions. Without him, I feel like, well, an impostor. Please don't rely on me, Zoë. I don't feel very reliable at the moment." 

Slightly hesitantly, Zoë put her hand on Victoria's arm. "Bearing in mind what Cariana told us, I think that reaction's quite reasonable. We'll have to do the best we can. I wonder what the Doctor would do now?" 

"That's quite an easy question. He'd go straight in, talk to anyone he met, find out what was going on, and set everybody by the ears." 

"Then I think that's what we'd better do." She picked up her bag again, and smiled suddenly. "And since you think my education's been so neglected, you'd better keep an eye on me and make sure I don't make some stupid mistake in the first two minutes." 

"Really, Zoë! Just because I've actually read..." 

Zoë had already resumed her progress, and Victoria had to break off and run after her. They swiftly passed from woodland, across an area of open ground used to keep chickens, between two cottages, and into the main street of the village. Among the passers-by, a young woman in a demure white muslin dress caught sight of them and did an almost comical double-take. 

"Well, here goes," Zoë muttered. 

With some trepidation, Victoria and Zoë advanced to meet the girl. 

  


"Pray excuse me," she began. "I know we have not been formally introduced, but in the country we rarely stand on ceremony. Alicia Latham." 

"Victoria Waterfield," Victoria replied. "And— my cousin, Zoë Heriot." 

Victoria and Alicia curtseyed. Zoë's attempt to follow suit was rather less graceful. 

"Now, my dear Miss Waterfield," Alicia said. "You must tell me how two such charming exemplars of fashion come to find themselves gracing our humble village." 

"We are strangers in this part of the country," Victoria said, picking her words with care. "And we find ourselves in a somewhat vexatious position. We travelled here, on the understanding that we were to be met by a friend of my guardian's, but as yet we have not been able to find him." 

"You travelled alone?" Alicia stared at them in amazement. 

"Not at all, but the, ah, vehicle that brought us has now departed, and we find ourselves entirely thrown upon our own resources, until we can discover whether the Doctor is indeed here." 

"This is the man who was to meet you?" 

"That's right," Zoë said. "I don't suppose you've seen him? He's a bit taller than us, about one-seventy centimetres—" 

Victoria bit her lip, but said nothing. 

"—Dark hair, and he's probably wearing a big coat and checked trousers." 

Alicia shook her head. "Indeed, Miss Heriot, I have not seen anyone who could answer to your description. And if your friend is not here to meet you, what is to become of you?" 

"We would have to remain here for some days," Victoria said. "I imagine we could find rooms at an inn, in a pinch." 

"No, Miss Waterfield, I will not hear of it. I cannot bear to think of the two of you left to the mercies of the Six Bells. You must both come to Priory House and stay with us for as long as is necessary. My brother will not make any difficulty, I assure you." 

"That would be most generous of you." 

"It would be a duty. You must both come with me at once." 

"I think we should ask around here first," Zoë said. "Just in case someone else has seen the Doctor. If he does turn up, we don't want to put you to all this trouble." 

"Perhaps you should speak to your family now," Victoria suggested. "Then, after we have made inquiries here, we could call upon you and discuss the best course of action." 

Alicia clapped her hands. "I believe you have hit upon the very notion. I shall set off this instant." 

After no more than thrice as many farewells as a reasonable person would deem necessary, Alicia finally hurried away. Victoria waited until she was out of sight and hearing, and exhaled with relief. 

"I think that went all right," Zoë said cheerfully. 

"Apart from giving measurements in centimetres," Victoria said. "Nobody uses centimetres except the French." 

"Whoops. And Britain's at war with France. Am I going to be arrested as a spy?" 

"Probably not. If it comes up we'll have to say you were taught by a French refugee or prisoner or something." 

"So I should have said," Zoë calculated briefly, "66.92 inches?" 

Victoria shook her head sadly. "You should have said something like 'a bit over five and a half feet'. I don't know what Alicia and her family will make of you." 

"If we can find the Doctor right away, we won't have to deal with them. Let's ask around." 

"Yes. And we should ask about the TARDIS as well, and— and Jamie. Cariana didn't mention him at all, did she?" 

Zoë paused, as if thinking back. "No. Not once." 

"I suppose he might not be travelling with the Doctor any more." 

"We'll ask, anyway. It can't do any harm." 

"No. And I suppose we should keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. After all, if the Doctor's supposed to be here and he isn't..." 

"Then there could be foul play involved." 

"Yes," Victoria said. She coughed and added in a determinedly casual tone, "I do wish we weren't so conspicuous. Everyone must think we're terribly rich." 

"If it means they talk to us, what's wrong with that?" 

"They might do more than talk to us. Alicia said she's got a brother. She might be planning to have him marry one of us." 

"Oh, Victoria, do be serious." 

"I was never more so. Let's take a turn around the village and I'll try to work out how we can look rich without becoming tempting objects for a fortune- hunter." She sighed. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave..." 

"When no-one's looking," Zoë said, "you'll have to teach me how to curtsey properly."


	2. Priory House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the planned dates for a ball and an apocalypse are revealed.

On Miss Latham's return to Priory House, her breathless account of the young ladies she had met in the village became at once the sole topic of conversation. Such information as she could give was eagerly discussed, and from each tiny seed of fact a vast forest of speculation was allowed to grow. 

"Do tell us," Charlotte Latham begged her elder sister. "What were they like?" 

"Oh, ladies of fashion, without a doubt," Alicia said with an air of carelessness. "I declare I have not seen the like of their gowns. Such fine silk could not be obtained outside a great city." 

"But what of their manner? Their appearance? Do they give themselves airs?" 

"You will have an opportunity to judge them for yourself," Alicia replied, a hint of mockery in her voice. "As for me, I found them both very pretty. Miss Waterfield is undoubtedly a lady. She was a little diffident at first, but such a charming, unaffected manner!" 

"And what of her cousin?" 

"I must confess that I cannot quite make Miss Heriot out. Compared to Miss Waterfield, she seems unpolished and somewhat — no, I will not say unsociable, for she did not appear to be at all uneasy when we spoke, but she lacks something — I cannot say what — that her cousin has." 

Henry, their elder brother, and the master of Priory House, had up to now confined his role in the conversation merely to listening. He now joined the party at the table and put his hand on his sister's shoulder. 

"A mystery, eh?" he said. "Doubtless once they're here you'll have their life stories out of them in no time." 

Alicia looked up at him pleadingly. "Then you will invite them, Henry?" 

"I seem to have no choice. To turn two benighted travellers from our door would be unthinkable." He smiled. "Particularly when these travellers are, by your account, so beautiful and accomplished." 

"And rich," Charlotte reminded him. "Or so Alicia says." 

"I said that they _appeared_ rich. When they arrive, we must determine the true facts of the matter. It would not do for Henry to propose, and then discover that the young lady had a mere life-interest." 

Henry laughed. "Your minds fly far ahead of mine. I have not yet met these visitors, and you are already planning my marriage to one or other of them. Well, Alicia, which is it to be?" 

"I shall leave that entirely to your own judgement," Alicia replied, with a smile of her own. 

⁂

For Zoë and Victoria, the afternoon had resulted in nothing more than fatigue and frustration. Everyone they'd spoken to had been unanimous: there had been no sign of the Doctor, Jamie or the TARDIS. Their questions about any unusual happenings in recent days had met with a surprising range of answers, but neither of them could bring herself to connect annoyances like hens being off lay or minor storm damage to a cottage roof with a disaster capable of overwhelming the Doctor. 

Accordingly, they arrived at Priory House at about four, and swiftly found Miss Latham's invitation to stay confirmed by her brother. A maid relieved them of their baggage, and in very little time they were in the parlour, seated side by side, being plied with tea and questions. The house was less elaborately furnished than the one Victoria had grown up in, and the plain, classical design of the tea service was, to her eyes, woefully out of date; but apart from such minor details she might almost have been back at Canterbury. Perhaps encouraged by such a familiar environment, she found herself improvising her answers with a boldness that a few hours before would have astonished her. 

"You say you have travelled from Kent?" Charlotte Latham asked. "Is that your home?" 

"That is so," Victoria said. "I have lived there nearly all my life, with my father, and, latterly, my guardians." 

"Then your mother— Oh, but I should not inquire." 

"It is no secret, I assure you. As you have correctly surmised, both my parents are now dead." 

"I am sorry to hear it." She hastily changed the subject. "And are you both natives of Kent? I have never been there, but by all accounts it is a very beautiful place." 

"Where I grew up, it certainly was." Victoria managed a smile. "Of course, like every county, some areas are pleasant, and others less so; but for most of my childhood, I was fortunate. From our house, it was possible to take the most lovely walks, and I frequently did." 

"And you, Miss Heriot?" Alicia asked. "Did you, too, grow up in the charming idyll that your cousin has described?" 

"Oh no," Zoë said. "I'm a City girl through and through." 

"Canterbury," Victoria hastily added, hoping that Alicia had not caught the capital C on 'City'. "We did not know each other well as girls. Our present close acquaintance is of recent date." 

She saw meaningful glances being exchanged between the Lathams, but there was nothing to be done about that. 

"I cannot imagine what has happened to the Doctor," she continued, not for the first time that afternoon. Though his absence was indeed weighing on her mind, her purpose in mentioning him now was more to divert the conversation away from the troublesome topic of Zoë. On that subject Victoria knew far too little to make a reasonable attempt at answering questions, and Zoë far too much not to give herself away as an impostor. 

Fortunately, the Lathams had not yet tired of discussing the misfortune of their guests. The inconvenience of the visitors' presence was but a trifle to them, compared to the enjoyment they could gain from offering sympathy and making infeasible suggestions. For some considerable time the visitors learned nothing of value, and Victoria was content to let the conversation take what turn it would. 

"And, of course, at the ball—" Charlotte broke off, one hand to her mouth. "Oh! But my dear Miss Waterfield! How could we not have told you? Of all the weeks in the year, you could not have chosen a better one to be marooned here. Tomorrow evening there is to be a ball at the Six Bells, and we are all to attend. Do you dance?" 

"I do," Victoria said slowly, though she wondered how much her knowledge would apply to a time fifty or sixty years before she had been taught the art. 

"Then you must come with us. And Miss Heriot, whether you dance or not, you will be most welcome too." 

"Thank you," Zoë said. She didn't sound too thrilled by the prospect. 

"Then it is agreed," Alicia said. "You shall both come with us." 

"And I venture to promise that you will not meet with finer young men anywhere in England," Charlotte added. 

⁂

Although the two travellers had retired early to the bedroom they were to share, pleading tiredness, they did not hurry to bed. Instead, they took the opportunity to discuss their day in relative privacy. 

"Can you dance, in fact?" Victoria asked. 

"Depends on the music," Zoë said. "I don't go earlier than techno, as a rule." She looked at Victoria's blank expression. "Nineteen-eighties?" 

"I don't think that would be at all appropriate. It would be better to say that you can't." 

"Fine. But I really don't think it's the most important question we've got to answer right now." 

"I know." Victoria yawned. "But it's getting late and we've had a busy day. Aren't you at all sleepy?" 

Zoë shook her head. 

"I'm more of an evening person," she said. 

"Well, I'm going to bed," Victoria said firmly. "Do you know if there's anything resembling a nightdress in our luggage?" 

Zoë crossed to where their carpet bags had been left and methodically searched them, coming up with two folded garments. 

"This must be yours," she said. "At least, it's got V embroidered on it." 

Victoria raised her eyebrows. 

"Just like the dresses. No expense spared. Would you mind looking away while I change?" 

"Oh. Of course." Zoë hastily turned away and began to experiment with her own clothes. "Um, when you've got a moment, can you help me? This won't untie." 

"You'll have to wait until I've finished." 

Zoë fidgeted impatiently until Victoria spoke again. 

"All right. Lie on your front and I'll sort you out. Whatever have you been doing here?" 

"It's not my fault," Zoë grumbled. "I told you these clothes aren't practical. Why couldn't the zip have been invented sooner?" 

"How did you get this on in the first place?" 

"Cariana had one of her subordinates do it for me. I don't think this is a one-person dress." She paused, as if following an unfamiliar train of thought. "I suppose you'd wear something like this to show how rich you are. That you need servants to get you in and out of your clothes." 

"That would be one reason, certainly." Victoria stepped back, her arms full of yellow silk. "I think you should be able to manage the rest yourself." 

"Right you are." 

Victoria took the opportunity, while Zoë was changing, to make her own investigation of their luggage. Somewhat to her disappointment, the bags were no bigger inside than out; nor did they appear to be sophisticated devices capable of making whatever clothing was called for. At the end of her examination, she knew that they had a suitable range of dresses and clean linen for five days, a few cosmetics, and precious little else. 

"All right, I'm done," Zoë said. Victoria turned, to see she was already in bed. "You'd better switch the—" 

She was looking at the single candle, set on a side table between the beds, and seemed unsure of the correct word. 

"Candle?" Victoria asked. 

"Yes. You'd better switch it off." 

Victoria blew the candle out, climbed into bed, and tried to compose herself for sleep. It wasn't easy; in the few hours since her forcible 'recruitment' by Cariana, the day had been a whirl of activity, which her mind now seemed determined to relive, in no particular order. 

"I've been going through our To Do list," Zoë's voice said quietly from the darkness. "It's pretty depressing." 

"Try to sleep," Victoria murmured back at her. 

"We've got nowhere today. If we don't do any better than this, then in three days from now everyone we've met today is going to be dead." 

"Please, Zoë, don't say that." 

"Facts can't be avoided, Victoria. As Cariana said, there's something wrong here. And if we don't find out what it is, she's going to deorbit an asteroid right on top of us. Everyone in a twelve kilometre radius is going to die — and that includes us, of course."


	3. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria writes a letter, and discovers a trinket.

When Victoria looked out of the window the following morning, she was not best pleased to see that it was pouring with rain. As far as she could see, the sky was nothing but grey cloud in every direction. It certainly wouldn't do for them — or rather, for the wealthy young heiresses they were posing as — to go out in weather like this. 

"Good morning," Zoë said politely behind her. 

Victoria turned. Though Zoë was still in bed, she was obviously awake, looking rather pale and drawn. 

"How did you sleep?" Victoria asked. 

"I've had better nights." 

"So have I." Victoria yawned. "I can never sleep the first night in a new bed. Anyway, it's raining. We'll have to spend the day in." 

Zoë shook her head. 

"We can't afford to lose the time," she said. "We can't sit around doing whatever it is people in this time do. What would that be, anyway?" 

"Can you play the piano?" 

"No." 

"Embroider?" 

"No." 

"Sew?" 

"No." 

"Draw?" 

Zoë pondered. "I got a B in technical drawing. Does that count?" 

"Probably not. What **can** you do?" 

This brought forth a long list of accomplishments. Sadly, it seemed unlikely that their stay with the Latham family would require Zoë to demonstrate expertise in the fields of mathematics, astrophysics, logic, hydroponics, electronics, or the theory and practice of space flight. 

"I could set them Sudoku puzzles," Zoë suggested helpfully. 

"You'll have to explain what those are. But not just now. It's time you got out of that bed, unless you want me to pull the covers off." 

"All right, I give in." Zoë climbed out of bed, and looked at herself in the mirror with a dissatisfied expression. "My hair's a mess. Am I expected to sort it out, or is that one of those things that need servants?" 

⁂

Henry, it seemed, was involved that day in the management of the estates, so that morning Victoria and Zoë were entertained by the sisters alone. By the middle of the morning, Victoria was beginning to feel the strain. She had lost count of the number of times she had nearly given the game away, and as for Zoë... Fortunately the Lathams had come up with an explanation for her unconventional behaviour, and it was such a good one that Victoria had adopted it practically unchanged. 

"Do tell us, Miss Waterfield," Alicia had urged her, when Zoë had been briefly out of the room. "How is it that your cousin seems to lack the fine manners and accomplishments that you exhibit?" 

Victoria had taken a deep breath. "As I said, we did not meet as children..." 

"Never?" 

"Never." 

"Ah, then you need say no more." Charlotte had leaned eagerly towards her. "I see it all. Her mother married beneath her, against the wishes of her family. Miss Heriot was then brought up in straitened circumstances, with her parents unable to give her the education that she should have. But your guardians, Mr. and Mrs..." 

"Harris." 

"Just so. They have taken a less severe attitude, to the daughter at least, and have begun to remedy the deficiencies of her upbringing. But as yet, she is ill-suited to take her place in society." 

Victoria had nodded slowly. If the Lathams believed that they had uncovered an old family shame - well, so be it. 

"Such things do happen, of course," she'd said. "My father was a kind man, but in the circumstances it would not have been possible for him even to mention Miss Heriot's name. But I beg you not to mention anything of this in my cousin's presence." 

"Our lips are sealed," Alicia had reassured her. 

Had the conversation on that score not already been at an end, Zoë's return would in any case have obliged Victoria to change the subject. The choice was not a difficult one. 

"If we are to attend the ball this evening, you must tell us what people we are likely to meet," she said. "As strangers in your village, we shall be entirely at your mercy." 

Alicia laughed. "I could name half-a-dozen families who are sure to be present. But if you do not know them, what could they be but a list of names? Suppose I were to tell you that you will most probably meet Edward Druce, what could that mean to you?" 

"Nothing," Zoë said. "Is he important?" 

"The Druces are the chief family of consequence in these parts, and he is their eldest son." 

"I see." 

It was clear from Zoë's tone of voice that she didn't. Victoria decided it would be as well to tease out a little more information. 

"What kind of man is he?" she asked. 

"A very dull one," Charlotte said cheerfully. "I would certainly not waste _my_ time and attention on him." 

"It is hardly likely that the situation will arise," her sister said. 

"I should hope it never does. No, my dear Miss Waterfield, there will be many more deserving objects for your attention at the ball. Though I must warn you: I reserve Captain Richards for myself. If you or Miss Heriot attempt to steal him from me, our friendship shall end at that moment." 

"He is a favourite of yours, then?" Victoria asked. 

Alicia shot her sister a glance. "I should say more of a foolish fancy. Dashing and handsome he undoubtedly is, but he could not possibly support a wife on a militia captain's pay." 

"He won't always be a captain," Charlotte shot back. 

"I daresay. But he will never be a wealthy man." 

"But what's he like?" Zoë broke in. "You said 'dashing' and 'handsome' but from the point of view—" She stopped, giving Victoria the distinct impression that she'd realised she was about to put her foot in it again. For whatever question she'd been about to ask, she eventually substituted "How intelligent is he?" 

All Alicia said was "I could not say," but her expression spoke volumes. 

"He's a captain!" Charlotte protested. "They don't make just anyone a captain!" 

"Indeed not. Only those who can afford their commission." 

"And what of your precious Edward Druce? From year's end to year's end he thinks of nothing save horses and dogs. I doubt he ever looked at a woman in his life." 

"He is not 'my' Edward Druce," Alicia replied, her composure unruffled. "And I do not recall making any claims regarding his intelligence. Only his consequence." 

⁂

"Miss Heriot," Charlotte remarked, not long after luncheon. "I believe you have said you do not dance?" 

"That's what I said," Zoë replied. 

"Then you may have a weary time at the ball, unless you are asked to make up a table at cards. Do you play cribbage?" 

Zoë shook her head. "No." 

"I feel it my duty to teach you," Charlotte said, in tones that brooked no opposition. "Sit here. Alicia, will you bring out the board?" 

"Of course." Alicia glanced at Victoria. "Miss Waterfield, will you join us?" 

Victoria opened her mouth to agree, but no words came out. An idea had leapt into her head, and for a few instants she could not tell whether it was brilliant or depraved. Almost before she knew it, though, her mind was made up. However right or wrong what she was about to do, it must be done. 

"Would you permit me the use of a pen and some of your paper?" she asked. "There is a letter that I must write." 

"Of course." Alicia ushered her to a corner of the drawing room, where a writing box stood on a side table. "You are writing, I take it, to explain the events that have stranded you in our village." 

"Quite so." Victoria felt herself blushing at the lie, but Alicia seemed not to notice. Her attention was already on the incipient card game. 

Victoria flattened out a sheet of paper, took up the pen, and paused for a moment before starting to write. 

_My Dear Father,_ she began. 

⁂

Carefully, Victoria removed the blotting paper, and reread her letter. Even though she'd had to use a quill instead of the steel pens she was used to, the handwriting was still recognisable as hers. If, as she hoped, her father would one day read it, he would be in no doubt of its authorship. 

She folded the letter, and on the outside directed that it should be opened only by Edward Waterfield, on a particular date. Then she enclosed the whole in a second sheet of paper, which she endorsed with more conventional directions. The next task must surely be to seal it, but there appeared to be no wax in the box. She glanced across at the other three, and found that she'd caught Charlotte's eye. 

"Miss Waterfield?" the latter asked, turning away from the game. 

"Please, do not let me interrupt you," Victoria began. 

"Oh, I welcome the diversion!" Charlotte flung her cards down. "Between my sister and your cousin, I believe I am quite undone. If there is any way in which I may be of use to you..." 

"I need to seal this letter," Victoria said. "But I can find no wax with which to do it." 

"For that you may blame Charlotte," Alicia said, from her seat at the card table. "She used the last of it this very week." 

Charlotte tossed her head. "Of my own supply, certainly, but Henry, I believe, keeps some in the escritoire. I am sure he will not begrudge you the use of it." She jumped up, crossed to a cabinet that stood against the wall, and began to open its drawers one by one. "Now, does he keep it with his account books or... no... Ah! Here it is." 

She hurried across to Victoria, and pressed the half-used stick of sealing wax into her hand. Then, in response to a complaint from Alicia that she was neglecting their other guest, she hurried back to the card table. 

Having melted the wax and sealed the letter, Victoria tidied the writing materials away, then rose to her feet and made to return the wax to the drawer from whence it had come. On opening it, she discovered that it was a repository of those miscellaneous objects, which accumulate in even the best-regulated households. She placed the wax among fragments of jewellery, pencil stubs, the handle from a cupboard and similar detritus. 

As she set the stick of wax down, her hand caught on something, which rolled across the drawer with a clatter. She looked down, and saw that she'd brushed against what appeared to be a small metal bowl, less than half the size of a coffee cup. It was light grey in colour and of a curious shape, with a rounded base and a flanged lip. She picked it up, wondering what it might be. 

"Hello," Zoë said, from behind her. "What's that?" 

Victoria jumped, and managed to suppress a small shriek. She turned, trying to compose herself, to find that the card party had definitely broken up; not only was Zoë there, but also the two Latham sisters. 

"I am not sure," Victoria said, and handed the bowl to her. 

"No, I can't see what it's supposed to be, either." Zoë turned to their hosts, and repeated the question. "What's this?" 

Silently, and not for the first time, Victoria hoped that the question was a reasonable one, however abruptly asked. 

"Oh, that?" Charlotte took the bowl from Zoë and turned it over in her hands, as if to jog her memory. "A curiosity, is it not? We found it on a walk, not long ago." 

"Where?" 

"Close to the millpond, trodden into the mud. That is all I know of it, and nobody could hazard a guess at who had dropped it." 

"Some gentleman taking a walk, no doubt," Alicia said. 

"But why would any gentleman carry such a thing?" Charlotte shook her head. "Enough. Now that Miss Waterfield has finished her letter, we are four, and so we will be able to teach Miss Heriot whist." 

⁂

"I wonder if Cariana knew we were going to a ball?" Zoë said, checking her appearance in the mirror. "This outfit's so elaborate I can't think of any other situation it would come in. In. Sorry, that sentence didn't end properly." 

"She must know a great deal," Victoria said. "How else could she have kidnapped both of us so easily?" 

"That ship of hers must be terrifically advanced." Zoë's expression was a little disparaging. "Even if it didn't look it." 

"But don't you think it's odd that with all that power, she turned to us to locate the Doctor? What can we do that she cannot?" 

"I suppose there are other groups in the Universe with the same level of technology she's got, so they could jam her instruments and so on. But that doesn't explain why us. Well, you travelled with the Doctor for a bit, so you'd know how he thinks, but that doesn't account for me." She glanced again at the mirror, where they were now both reflected. "It can't just be that we're dark and..." 

"Petite," Victoria suggested. 

A mischievous look flickered across Zoë's face. "I was going to say 'shortarses.'" 

"Then I am glad you did not. Had the Miss Lathams heard you use such an expression, they would have made up their minds that you were certainly the daughter of a costermonger, or worse." 

"Why should I care about them? They're both pretty limited in their thinking." 

Victoria sighed. "You **should** care. And just because neither of them has had the opportunities you have enjoyed, that does not give you the right to look down upon them. We will now change the subject, please." 

Zoë saluted. "Yes, ma'am. What to?" 

"That metal dish. The one in the escritoire — do you remember?" 

"Of course." 

"Didn't you think it looked somehow out of place?" 

"I hadn't thought about it." 

"Please do so." 

Zoë closed her eyes, presumably visualising the object in question. "It's about five centimetres across, three deep. There's a broad rim to the edge, with three indentations spaced at one-twenty degree intervals. The base is rounded, such that the dish, standing upright, would be in a state of unstable equilibrium. It's obviously part of something bigger; it doesn't make any sense on its own." 

"What was it made of? I could not place the metal." 

"Aluminium, I think. Where was I? The interior had been thoroughly cleaned and there was no clue to the original contents." 

"But you can only have had the dish in your hand for a few seconds. How can you have seen all that and remembered it so precisely?" 

"I forget nothing," Zoë said, matter-of-factly. 

Victoria looked at her for a few moments. "I wonder if that is a curse or a blessing," she eventually said. 

"Why would it be a curse?" 

"Never mind." Victoria turned her thoughts back to the dish. "Have you seen anything else made of aluminium in this house?" 

The response was almost immediate. "No." 

"It's a clue, then. Something out of place." 

"Then why are we going to this stupid ball rather than investigating it?" 

"We should not waste valuable opportunities by haring off after the first clue we see. People are going to come to the ball from everywhere around here, Zoë. If one of them has encountered the Doctor, this is our only opportunity to discover it." 

"I suppose so." 

Victoria looked closely at her 'cousin.' Though she'd known her for less than two days, she was already beginning to recognise her moods. 

"Zoë, is something bothering you?" she said. 

"Other than Cariana's deadline? Not really. It's just that all these people have lives here. They depend on each other, and on keeping to all the rules, just like I did back on the Wheel. They all see the ball this evening as so important, and I can take it or leave it. I don't fit in." 

Victoria nodded. "Time travel does that to you," she said. "That's one of the reasons why I left the Doctor. I think if you stay with him for too long, you never fit in anywhere ever again." 

"In your opinion, did you stay with him for too long?" 

It took a while for Victoria to answer. "Maybe," she said eventually.


	4. Inappropriate Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zoë does not behave in a ladylike manner.

The Lathams' carriage drew up outside the Six Bells. One by one, its occupants were handed down, and made their way into the inn. Before she had time to register more than a vague impression of heat, light and music, Victoria was standing on the threshold of a large, crowded room, lit by countless candles, and filled with the mingled smells of perfume, candle grease, and sweat. Within, gentlemen in coats and breeches mingled with elegantly-dressed females, or congregated in twos and threes at the periphery. 

As Victoria stepped into the room, Zoë at her side, she sensed the lull in conversation and the quick glances from dozens of eyes. In such elaborate dresses, they could not hope to pass unmarked; their every move would be under scrutiny. Under normal circumstances, Victoria's instinct would have been to find some piece of furniture behind which to hide, but the urgency of her task ruled that out. After all, she firmly told herself, compared with some of the things she had had to do whilst travelling with the Doctor, engaging in conversation with her fellow dancers was hardly a terrible imposition. 

And her fellow dancers, it was plain, were eager for conversation with her. Hardly had she looked around than Alicia was introducing her to a red-coated officer, one Major Etheridge, who begged the honour of her hand for the first two dances. 

Victoria curtseyed. "Sir, I should be delighted." 

"And perhaps, then..." He turned to Zoë. "Miss Heriot?" 

Zoë's curtseying technique had improved over the last day and a half, but it was still nowhere as graceful as Victoria's. "I'm afraid I do not dance, sir." 

The musicians struck up, and the partners took their places. Over the Major's shoulder, Victoria caught a glimpse of Zoë, standing against the wall, watching the dance. Something in Zoë's air of detachment made Victoria think of Mr Darcy, refusing to give consequence to a young lady slighted by other men. 

Victoria shook her head at the whimsical notion, and focused all her attention on the dance. For the first few minutes, she could think of nothing but watching the leading couple and copying their movements, trying to apply the knowledge she had learned in her own dancing lessons decades in the future and years in her past. As the dance went on, she felt herself relaxing; despite the ever-present knowledge of impending doom, she was almost enjoying herself. No monsters, no death, no terror: she was working within the structure of a society not too different from the one she had grown up in, and knew what was and was not expected of her. Determining to speak to the Major, she found herself talking in calm, conversational tones. 

"It is a fortunate coincidence that we find ourselves in Withybridge on this night of all nights," she said. "It seems to me that the people here must have come from far and wide." 

"Oh, without question. But if I may dare to suggest it, there are few here to match you and your cousin in elegance." 

Looking around, Victoria couldn't help agreeing. Among the muslins and print dresses, the elaborate silks she and Zoë were wearing must be acting as beacons, attracting every kind of welcome and unwelcome attention. 

"Everybody must think us guilty of the worst kind of vanity," she said. "Or profligacy." 

"Nonsense, not at all. Why shouldn't a young lady try to look her best?" 

"It suggests, perhaps, a lack of attention to more serious matters." 

The Major laughed. "And since when did young men care for that in a woman?" 

Before Victoria could reply, the dance came to an end. Her partner conducted her to a side table where refreshments were being served, and handed her a glass of punch. 

"Look at your friends the Miss Lathams, for instance," he said, taking a glass of his own. "Compared to her sister, Miss Charlotte has not a sensible idea in her head. But she's the one that young Richards thinks the world of." 

"And has he a sensible idea in his head?" Victoria asked. 

"I have my doubts from time to time. He's a good man, though." 

Deciding the iron was hot — or maybe the punch she'd been sipping was having an effect on her self-confidence — Victoria decided to broach the subject of the Doctor. 

"I wonder if you could be of any assistance to us?" she asked. "We were conveyed here by an acquaintance — a lady. It was arranged that we were to meet with the Doctor — a friend of my late father's — but in two days, we have found no clue that he was even here." She gave a brief description of the Doctor, and fixed the Major with a heart-melting look of appeal. "I take it you have heard no news of him?" 

The Major shook his head. "I'm afraid I have not seen any such man as you describe. If you wish, I shall cause enquiries to be made among the officers and the men. Seems quite a strange thing to me." 

"To us as well," Victoria said. "We both hope that no harm has befallen him." 

"You suspect footpads or something of the sort? There's been nothing of that kind in these parts for..." He paused, as if trying to remember. "Long enough, anyway. And the only highwayman I've ever seen in these parts was dangling from Wolfenden Gibbet — sorry, not a fit subject for a young lady." 

"I find that the subject does not shock me," Victoria said. "Tell me, does—" 

Before she could finish whatever question had been half-formed in her mind, the musicians struck up again for the next dance. Setting down their glasses, the two hurried back to where the lines of partners were once again forming. 

  


Midway through the second dance, Victoria felt she had gleaned all she usefully could from the Major, and was allowing the conversation to drift harmlessly. Not for the first time, she glimpsed Zoë through the crowd, but this time discovered that her 'cousin' had also fallen into conversation with an officer: a tall, handsome-looking man in a blue jacket. 

"Major," she asked, presently. "Do you know who that man is? The one in blue, with whom my cousin is conversing?" 

The Major glanced in the direction she indicated. 

"Indeed I do, my dear Miss Waterfield," he said. "Though I wish it were not so." There was a momentary hiatus in the conversation, as the dance required the two to separate for a few moments. "Tom Dennis, a Lieutenant in the artillery. He has no birth or fortune to recommend him," he added, sounding as if these were far less serious obstacles than service in a regiment where promotion was by merit rather than inherited wealth. "I fear his interest in your cousin may be purely mercenary." 

"In that case," Victoria said, crossing over with him, "it would be as well to make sure his acquaintance with her goes no further." 

"Is her heart then so easily touched?" 

Victoria paused momentarily before answering. In the short time she'd known Zoë, the latter had shown no sign of having a heart at all, and yesterday the prospect of being a fortune-hunter's prey had done nothing more than amuse her. 

"I do not think so," she said. "But — something makes me uneasy. That is all." 

"We cannot have your peace of mind so disturbed. As soon as this dance is over, I shall see what can be done to detach him from her." 

Victoria shot another glance at the pair. Zoë now had her hands on her hips and was leaning slightly forward. 

"If it isn't too late..." she muttered to herself. 

Her growing disquiet made the remainder of the dance a very trying experience, though she managed not to make a spectacle of herself through clumsiness. The moment the partners had exchanged their bows and curtseys, the Major set off for the corner where Zoë and the Lieutenant were conversing; Victoria followed closely behind. 

"I am not arguing with you," Zoë was saying in an icy voice. "I am telling you." 

"I'll not have some chit of a girl speak to me like that. You presume to teach me my profession?" 

"Well, someone's got to. Otherwise, if anyone ever let you near a real gun you'd probably manage to blow up your own men." Zoë noticed the rescue party approaching. "I don't see any point in prolonging this." 

She turned away. The Lieutenant caught her by the shoulder. 

"You stupid girl—" he began. 

Victoria was never sure exactly what happened next. There was a brief flurry of movement; then Zoë was free and the Lieutenant had staggered back a couple of paces, clutching his arm. 

"Whatever else I am, I am not stupid!" Zoë snapped at him. 

To her horror, Victoria realised that this little contretemps had become the focus of attention for what seemed like half the room. Something had to be done now. 

"Zoë," she said. "There is a matter on which I particularly wish to speak to you. You will excuse us, Lieutenant?" 

The Lieutenant looked as if he would rather have murdered them, but seeing the scrutiny he was under, he bowed stiffly and turned away. 

"Well?" Zoë asked, her voice still cold and angry. 

"Stop it!" Victoria hissed. "You're not supposed to behave like this. Everyone's looking at us!" 

"Let them. It'll do them good to see what mind-training can accomplish." 

"If it hasn't enabled you to control your temper I don't see what good it is." 

"You think I can't control my temper? Watch this." 

She turned to face Victoria and took a deep breath. Her face, which had been slightly flushed, reverted to its wonted calm, and the icy fury drained from her eyes. 

"There," she continued in her normal cheerful tone. "All better now." 

Victoria shuddered. "I think that of all the things I have seen you do, that was the most... unsettling. How did you get into that quarrel?" 

"You'd think an artilleryman would know something about ballistics, wouldn't you?" Zoë rolled her eyes. "The first time for a day and a half that I get the chance to talk about something I know, and it turns out that he hasn't a clue. And then he tried to patronise me." 

"He was probably trying to make love to you." 

Zoë's jaw dropped, and Victoria realised too late that the meaning of that phrase had changed somewhat since her own time. "I meant in the sense of trying to flirt with you." 

"I wouldn't put the other one past him," Zoë said grimly. "He could be dangerous if he was alone with someone in a dark alley. And you seriously think he was trying to **attract** me?" 

"Well, before you put his back up. I think he was after your money." 

"I don't have any— Oh, this wretched gown." 

"Yes. We still look like heiresses to twenty thousand pounds." 

"Fantastic." Zoë sat down on a nearby windowsill and put her head in her hands. "Time travel really isn't all it's cracked up to be." 

"Do you think I don't know that?" Victoria sat beside her and put an arm round her shoulders. "We don't have to stay here, you know. We could say you were not feeling well, make our excuses, and walk back to Priory House." 

"And in two days time, get squashed by an asteroid." Zoë shook her head. "We can't afford to waste any opportunity we get." 

With that reminder of their original purpose in mind, the two time travellers held to their original programme and remained at the ball for the rest of the evening. Victoria danced several more dances, while Zoë resumed her theoretically tactful enquiries about the Doctor, local folklore, and anything that might be considered in the slightest way unusual. By the end of the evening, both were hot, exhausted, and somewhat tipsy; Victoria, indeed, nearly fell asleep in the carriage despite the brevity of the ride back to Priory House. On their return, they'd collapsed straight into bed. 

"About that metal thing in the escritoire," Zoë said, just after she'd blown the candle out. "You know I said it was probably aluminium? Well—" 

Whatever she'd been about to say, Victoria wasn't awake to hear it. 

⁂

The next thing Victoria knew, she was awake, and it was dark — dark enough that she could only see vague outlines. In the other bed, Zoë was thrashing this way and that, mumbling nonsense words into her pillow. Victoria wasn't close enough to hear, but she was sure that at least two of them were 'Doctor' and 'TARDIS'. Was she having a fit? 

Victoria waited a little, but the sounds showed no sign of diminishing, and it was impossible to conceive of going back to sleep. She climbed out of her bed and groped her way across to Zoë's. In the dimness, she didn't know she'd got there until one of her hands closed on Zoë's shoulder. It felt damp with sweat. 

With a gasp, the muttering stopped, and so did Zoë's frantic motion. In the stillness, Victoria could hear her own heart beating. Then Zoë's sleepy voice asked, "What's the matter?" 

"Are you all right?" Victoria asked. "I thought you were having a fit or something." 

"Oh no," Zoë's voice replied, sounding as if her worst fears had just been confirmed. "Not again." She took a deep breath. "Victoria, I'm truly sorry that I woke you. You should try to get back to sleep, but I'm afraid I can't promise that it won't happen again. This isn't the first time." 

This reply did nothing to decrease Victoria's agitation. Neither did the fact that Zoë was now starting to shiver. As one who'd been scared out of her wits far too many times, Victoria recognised the symptoms. 

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Was it a bad dream?" 

"I suppose so. But I don't know what it was. I never do. I never remember them. And I ought to remember everything." 

Victoria, finding it uncomfortable to remain bending over, released Zoë's shoulder and sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Everyone has nightmares," she said, trying to sound reassuring. She resisted the temptation to mention her own. 

"That isn't the point. I can't remember. There must be something broken in my mind. Perhaps it's my training. There were studies, indicating that training such as I have received could exacerbate any existing instability..." 

_Quite a tonguetwister_ , Victoria thought. 

"...Everyone said there was nothing in it. But after that day when the Cybermen came, and Commander Bennett, well, lost his grip, I've always wondered. When we first got here you said something about me being locked up as a madwoman. Victoria, what if I am?" 

"You're not. Don't be silly." 

"And how would you know? You can't see what it's like in my mind. It won't stop. It won't ever stop. It'll just get worse and worse and worse and they'll lock me up and throw away the keycard." 

Zoë's voice, which had remained quiet and measured, rose on the last few words, and she sat up in bed, a pale blur among the shadows. Victoria moved along the bed and put her arm round Zoë's shoulders. 

"Hush," she whispered. "You'll wake everyone up. Try to sleep. You'll be better in the morning." 

"But I don't know that." 

"None of us know we'll wake up in the morning," Victoria countered. "But we still go to bed at night." 

"Are you trying to comfort me with philosophy?" A little of Zoë's normal self-assurance seemed to be returning. "You're very bad at it." 

"Then would you rather I distracted you by other means? Before we went to sleep you were going to tell me something about that dish, were you not?" 

"Aluminium," Zoë said. "Chemical symbol, Al. Atomic number 13, weight 26.981. But this is the important bit: First practical method for refining was invented in 1886 by Charles Martin Hall and Paul Heroult. Or, to put it another way, years and years in the future from where we are now." 

"So if that dish is made of aluminium..." 

"If it had been made by the technology of this time, it would be worth more than gold." 

"Which means its owner wouldn't have left it lying around for anyone to find." 

"So, logically, it was brought here either by aliens or by time travellers." 

Victoria patted Zoë's hand. "There you are. Nothing wrong with your mind at all. Now go back to sleep." 

"Really, Victoria, if you're suggesting..." Zoë's voice tailed off with a sigh as Victoria gently pushed her back onto the mattress. 

Victoria rose to return to her own bed, then, on impulse, turned back and planted a sisterly kiss on Zoë's forehead. 

"Good night," she whispered.


	5. A Previously Unseen Interest in Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a countryside walk is taken.

By the next morning Victoria had determined that she wouldn't mention the topic of Zoë's bad dreams, unless Zoë brought the subject up first. In the event Zoë didn't, leaving Victoria to wonder whether that was because Zoë had made a similar resolution or because she'd forgotten the whole incident. 

The weather was damp and unpleasant, but such rain as there was dried up by mid-morning. No sooner had it ceased than Zoë, who'd been showing increasing signs of impatience, had suggested they take a walk in the direction of the mill. The Lathams had attempted to dissuade her, but to no avail. 

"Suppose you were to show our guests the way, Alicia?" Henry had eventually suggested. "You can be there and back in time for luncheon, and even after this rain you should not find any of the paths to be an impassable morass." 

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Zoë had said. "Just show me on a map if you like." 

"That would hardly do," Alicia had said. "As strangers, with no guide, you might easily mistake a turning. I shall come with you and keep you on the right path." 

Although, indoors, Zoë had been keen on the idea of a walk, her enthusiasm seemed somewhat diminished by the time Alicia was conducting her and Victoria through what Victoria felt was beautiful countryside. She lagged behind the other two, keeping her eyes open and her mouth mostly shut. 

"What's got into you?" Victoria asked her, a little while after they'd set out, while Alicia was distracted exchanging greetings with a local farmer. 

"I wish I had some idea what we're up against," Zoë said quietly. "I can't spot anything out of place, but given how little I know about this time that doesn't mean much. It's pretty unlikely that we'll find anything else where that bit of aluminium came from, but if we **do** I probably won't spot it." 

"If it's any consolation, I can't see anything either. Is that all?" 

"I'd have thought it was enough. But as it happens, I think everything round here is very untidy. All these puddles! And why can't these paths be straighter?" 

"Zoë, this is the countryside. That's just how things are." 

"Well, I don't like it. And I don't like these boots either." 

"What's the matter with them? Are they giving you blisters?" 

"No, but they aren't very waterproof. I'd prefer wellies." She searched her mental database. "I suppose the Duke of Wellington hasn't invented them yet." 

"He isn't even a Duke yet." 

Zoë sighed. "I really need to read up on the history of this time. At the moment I'm about as much use as an anemometer on an asteroid." 

Victoria patted her on the shoulder. 

"You'll just have to do the best you can," she said. 

  


Five minutes later, the party were walking through a patch of woodland. As before, Alicia and Victoria found themselves in the lead, with Zoë trailing. The topic of conversation was, inevitably, the previous evening's ball. 

"It does not surprise me that Lady Druce and her family did not make an appearance," Alicia said. "But with that exception, I believe that you met everybody of consequence, in the neighbourhood. How did you like Mary Morton?" 

"She was the tall young woman in the pale green dress, was she not?" Victoria asked. "I presume that she does have interests in life other than flirting with officers, but they did not seem to be in evidence last night." 

Alicia laughed. "You have put your finger on it. Until it was settled that Lieutenant Harris and his more jovial friends were to attend, she pretended total indifference to the project..." 

Abruptly, her monologue was cut off by a cry and a thud. Both spun round, to see Zoë lying prone at the base of an oak tree. Victoria rushed back to her, but even in the short time it took her to cover the distance she was reassured: Zoë had risen to hands and knees, and her expression showed that there was no injury to anything save her dignity. 

"What happened?" Victoria asked. 

"I caught my foot in those silly tree roots," Zoë said. She climbed to her feet, and started brushing damp leaves from her dress. "If this is what the countryside's like you can keep it." 

"You are not hurt?" Alicia inquired. 

Zoë rubbed her left arm. "No, I'm fine. Tell me, how far are we from the millpond now?" 

"A little over a mile, I suppose. Perhaps we should curtail the expedition." 

"No," Zoë repeated, sounding quite firm. "There's nothing wrong with me. Let's get on with it." 

  


For the rest of the walk, Zoë was no more talkative, but her air of gloom seemed to have dissipated. She now moved more briskly, keeping up with the other two, and in general tried to present the impression that nothing was out of the ordinary. Once they had reached the millpond, Alicia had suggested that they sit on a fallen log and rest for a few minutes; Victoria had accepted the suggestion with alacrity, but Zoë had, instead, remained on her feet, walking this way and that along the bank, and taken a lively interest in the waterwheel and millrace. Her mood on the return journey had been even more lively, and she had begun to show a previously unseen interest in nature, stopping here and there to collect plants or examine the bark of trees. 

For her part, Victoria had concentrated on cultivating Alicia. Rather than merely answering or deflecting questions, as she had spent most of her time doing up to now, she tried to think of useful inquiries she could make. By now, she couldn't help thinking, the Doctor would have solved the mystery of his own disappearance, freed himself from wherever he had been confined, and probably brought down a government or two in the process. Whereas all she and Zoë had managed to discover, with more than half of their time gone, was a fragment of metal barely larger than an inkwell. By the time the trio once more entered Priory House, Victoria's store of local knowledge and gossip had been greatly improved; but, she feared, not by anything relevant to the task at hand. 

On their return from the walk, Victoria, accompanied by Zoë, went to their bedroom to change. She had noted a certain impatience in her companion's manner, and hoped that she had information to share. 

"Have you discovered something?" she asked, as soon as they were alone in their room. 

Zoë nodded. "I think so. It was when I fell over — you remember?" 

"Of course." 

"Well, I saw some plants there that didn't look right. Bluish and metallic." 

"I didn't notice anything." 

"No, they were under a bush. You'd have to be at ground level. Anyway, after that I was looking out for them, and they kept showing up all the way to the mill." 

"And on the way back, when you were acting like a naturalist—" 

"I was studying those things. Look, I've got one here." 

She held out her gloved left hand. In among a handful of twigs and stems was a plant such as Zoë had described — silver-blue, and with a reflective sheen to its surface. Here and there its stem swelled into small globes, while what was presumably the top sported, rather than a flower, an irregular amber crystal surrounded by pale fronds. 

"That doesn't look like any plant from Earth," Victoria said. 

"That's what I thought. Have you seen anything like it on your travels?" 

"I cannot place it." 

"Well, I think we should definitely hang onto it. It might be very important." 

Victoria delved in a cupboard, unearthing a chipped porcelain match jar. "This will do as a vase. Put it in there, then you won't have to carry it around with you." 

Zoë tried to do so, and discovered a disturbing fact. 

"It's stuck to my glove," she said. She bent over her hand, looking more closely. "In fact, no, it's taken root." 

"In your hand?" Victoria shuddered, imagining sharp fibres drilling into her own palm. 

"I'm not sure." Zoë tried to loosen her glove. "Ouch. Yes, I think it's penetrated the skin to a degree." 

"How can you be so calm? Zoë, that thing's sticking its roots in your **hand**!" 

"If I concentrate hard enough I can keep myself rational. I've had basic mental training, remember. But I can't concentrate indefinitely, so we need to sort this out. Now, let's see. Could you cut the glove away?" 

"Of course." Victoria hurried away, returning almost immediately with scissors. Trying to stop her hands from shaking, she slit the glove down both sides, then cut across the base of the fingers. The fingers and back came away easily, leaving the plant and a patch of cotton resting on Zoë's palm. 

"I think this is going to need two hands," Zoë said. "That means you'll have to do it. Could you take hold of both edges of what's left, and then pull it sharply straight up?" 

Victoria swallowed. "I'll try. But tell me to stop if it hurts you." 

She took hold of the loose edges. 

"On a count of three," she said. "One. Two. Three." 

She tugged upward. There was a momentary resistance, a gasp from Zoë, and then she was holding the plant and its cotton. She hastily deposited it in her makeshift vase, taking care not to touch the plant, and turned back to Zoë, who was sitting on her bed breathing deeply. She seemed a few shades paler than normal, her lips were moving soundlessly, and she was examining her hand. 

"Are you all right?" Victoria asked. 

Zoë nodded. "I think it came out cleanly. Look, puncture wounds, with no tearing of the skin. It doesn't seem to have penetrated very deeply — note the lack of significant bleeding. Presumably, if I'd left it, it would have gone deeper." 

"'Lack of significant bleeding.'" Victoria shook her head. "You're still hurt. I'll see what first aid supplies Cariana gave us." 

  


After luncheon, the Miss Lathams announced their intention of walking into the village, where they expected to meet their dear friends the Mortons. Though an invitation was extended to their guests to accompany them, it seemed to Victoria that it had been given only as a matter of form, and she was easily able to decline it on Zoë's behalf and her own. 

"Good job we didn't get dragged off to the village with those two," Zoë said, as the two once more set out for the vicinity of the millpond. "I've heard all I ever want to hear about officers and dancing, several times over." 

"And we do have more pressing matters to attend to," Victoria said. "Fortunately, their invitation was not seriously meant. I suspect Charlotte, in particular, wanted to talk about us, and our presence would have been a hindrance." 

"You can't be sure of that. If they didn't want us, why ask us?" 

"Politeness required it. And their true meaning seemed reasonably obvious to me." 

"I'm not good at picking up that sort of subtext." A low branch threatened to knock Zoë's bonnet off; she caught at it with her left hand, winced, and rapidly changed to her right. 

"Is your hand—" Victoria asked. 

"It still hurts a bit, if I try to do things with it." Zoë shook her head, as if to dismiss the subject. "What did you mean, Charlotte wanted to talk about us?" 

"You nearly came to blows with that officer. Such tomboyish behaviour could not fail to go unnoticed." 

"He'd better not try anything again, or I'll kick his spine through that silly hat he was wearing. By the way, you said 'tomboyish' as if it was something bad. Isn't it seen as a desirable characteristic?" 

"Young women," Victoria said, "are expected to behave with grace and dignity. They are not supposed to descend to violence." 

"And presumably men are supposed to treat them with respect?" 

"Of course." Victoria could feel the mesh of logic being woven around her. 

"Well, if he called me stupid, he wasn't following the rules, was he?" 

Victoria sighed. "Zoë, all you are trying to do is excuse your own loss of temper. In a civilised society, people do not resort to violence for a trifling insult." 

"This isn't a civilised society by my standards. It's barely one step up from barbarism — Oh. This is disturbing." 

"What?" 

They were in the woodland; not too far from where Zoë had tripped and fallen, but not as far from Priory House. Following Zoë's pointing finger, Victoria caught sight of a cluster of the crystalline flowers. 

"That wasn't here this morning," Zoë explained. "I'm sure of it. These things seem to be spreading quite rapidly." 

Victoria shivered. 

"You're right," she said. "That is disturbing. What if they get into the crops?" 

"And then into the human food chain. I'd certainly prefer not to eat one." 

"Oh, I do wish you hadn't said that." 

"Sorry." Zoë walked around the clump of flowers, keeping a cautious distance from them as she did so. "But even if they do get into the crops, it won't help them, will it? In about thirty-six hours, this whole area's going to be one big crater." 

"Do you think this is the wrong thing that Cariana warned us of? An infestation that must be destroyed by any means necessary?" Victoria shook her head. "But surely it would not be necessary to use such appalling methods merely to destroy a few plants." 

"That depends how sure she wants to be that they **are** destroyed — all of them. Assuming they spread at this rate and originated at a single point, by now they could well be covering an area of ten square kilometres, plus or minus nought point eight. That's a big area to deal with using conventional techniques." 

"But even so, surely there is some other way to deal with these things?" 

"Yes: maybe there's a chemical that would kill them but not affect native species. Or a specialised bacterium could be engineered — but not in a day, by two of us with no equipment. We'd need a laboratory." 

Victoria shook her head. "I still cannot understand it. Cariana must have access to a laboratory, and who knows what else. And yet she sent the two of us." 

"Maybe she doesn't know it's the plants?" Zoë set off in the direction of the house, at a brisk pace. "She said she'd drop her asteroid if she didn't hear from us in four days. That means she must have left some way for us to get in touch with her. It's got to be something in our luggage." 

Victoria hurried after her. "But we have both searched the luggage!" she protested. "There was nothing there." 

"Cariana's TARDIS didn't look like a TARDIS from the outside, did it?" 

"I suppose not. But—" 

"Save it for later." 

Victoria fell silent, and concentrated on keeping up with Zoë. She did, though, find time to wonder when and how Zoë had formed her notions of what a TARDIS ought to look like.


	6. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two persons cannot be found.

"So much for that idea," Zoë said, in disgusted tones. She was sitting on the floor in their shared bedroom, with the contents of their luggage laid out around her in a carefully ordered spiral. "You can't think of anything I've missed, can you?" 

Victoria shook her head. "You have tried everything I thought of, and many things I would never have imagined. Did you seriously think Cariana would disguise a communications device as" — she blushed and lowered her voice — "underdrawers?" 

"I felt it was necessary to eliminate the possibility," Zoë said. "But I freely admit I've only ever seen that sort of thing in webcomics — and not the realistic sort." 

"What's a webcomic?" 

"If I said 'a comic strip you read on a computer,' does that explain it enough?" 

"I suppose so." Victoria decided the matter was of little importance, and returned to her main concern. "But Zoë, if we cannot contact Cariana, how are we to deal with these flowers?" 

Zoë jumped to her feet, crossed to the cupboard where they had concealed their original specimen, and extracted it. "This one's wilting, I think. Maybe if they could all be dug out and disposed of safely... it would take an awful lot of manpower, though. Or we could get some more samples and do some poison trials." 

"Manpower," Victoria repeated. "You remember those officers we met at the ball?" 

"Of course. Haven't I told you I forget nothing?" 

"Would they not have sufficient men at their disposal?" 

"It's a thought." Zoë looked dissatisfied. "But it would be a very brute-force approach. And if one man missed one plant, we'd be back where we started. There ought to be a more elegant solution." 

"If only we could find the Doctor." 

"Well, we can't. There's no sign that he was ever here." 

"Then let us go to the village and see if we can find an officer to discuss the matter with. The solution may not be an elegant one, but we have nothing better to try." 

"You go," Zoë said. "I'm going to take another look at the infestation. I need to make a better estimate of the area it covers." 

"Very well." Victoria put her hand on Zoë's arm. "Do take care, won't you, Zoë?" 

Zoë smiled up at her. "Don't worry. I can take care of myself." 

⁂

Getting to the village, it transpired, was the easy part; fifteen minutes' easy walk brought Victoria to the village green. But there was not a red coat in sight, and though she stood there for some time, none appeared. Inwardly, she chastised herself for her own naiveté. Just because she wanted to speak to an officer, that did not mean that officers were obliged to frequent the village in case she required their services. Their duties, wherever their quarters were — and why had she not thought to ask that essential question the previous night? — must take up most of their time. 

While she was still pondering, she heard the hoofbeats of a horse, and looked up to see the red coat she sought. Major Etheridge spotted her at the same moment. He walked his horse across the green to her, but did not dismount. 

"Miss Waterfield," he said. Close to, Victoria could see that both he and the horse looked strained and weary. 

Victoria curtseyed. "Major." 

"Miss Waterfield, have you by any chance seen Captain Richards today?" 

"Indeed, sir, I have not." Victoria looked up at him, trying to read his expression under the shadow of his bicorne hat. "Has he met with some accident?" 

"At present, we cannot tell. Do you think your cousin may have seen him? Or your hosts?" 

"I shall ask Zoë at the first opportunity." Victoria dismissed her half-formed notions of asking the Major to march his men down to the woods to dig up flowers. It was obvious that he would consider the matter occupying his mind to be far more urgent. "If you wish to speak to the Miss Lathams, they spoke of visiting their friends, the Mortons: I understand they do not live far away." 

"No, barely five minutes' ride." The Major bowed to her again. "My thanks, Miss Waterfield." 

He rode off. Victoria, for her part, set out once more for Priory House. It might be that Zoë, or the Latham sisters, had returned, and Victoria's news should be shared as quickly as possible. 

⁂

On her return to Priory House, Victoria was met at once by Henry, who looked decidedly agitated. Alicia stood a few paces behind him. 

"Have you any news of Charlotte?" he asked, without preliminary. 

"Charlotte?" Victoria repeated, feeling dread creep over her. "What has happened?" 

"You recall she was to visit the Mortons, with Alicia?" 

"I do." Victoria felt briefly grateful that Zoë was not there, to boast of forgetting nothing. 

"She left the Mortons half an hour or more before Alicia did, and was seen setting out for here. But she never arrived. Of course, we knew nothing of this until Alicia herself returned... Miss Waterfield? Are you well?" 

"I am quite well," Victoria said, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. "But have you not heard? Captain Richards has also gone missing, and his fellow officers are searching for him." 

Alicia made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. "I _knew_ it! Miss Waterfield, you must tell us at once all you know." 

Hastily, Victoria gave an account of her meeting with Major Etheridge. 

"But surely," she concluded, "you do not believe that your sister and he have..." She tailed off, the word 'eloped' hanging unspoken in the air. 

"It'd be an uncommon stupid thing to do," Henry said. 

"Between them, I believe they can muster as much stupidity as anybody could desire, and more!" Alicia retorted. By now the three were standing in a tight knot in the hall, their voices instinctively lowered. "Who knows what scheme they might have formed last night?" 

"You always think the worst." Henry patted his sister's arm. "But inquiries must be set in hand without delay. I shall ride to the camp at Thirburne at once." 

He hurried off. 

⁂

The rest of the afternoon passed for Victoria in an unproductive fret. Alicia, as might be expected, was in no mood for rational conversation, and there was nothing that Victoria could say to help. At every sound of feet on the gravel outside, both jumped to their feet and hurried to the window, only to be greeted every time by the innocent sight of a gardener about his duties, or a maid hurrying to the kitchen garden. 

The fifth or sixth time, the footstep sounded lighter and quicker, and when Victoria looked out of the window, she saw Zoë walking up the drive. Choosing her moment with care, she intercepted Zoë as the latter was divesting herself of her cloak and bonnet. 

"What's up?" Zoë asked. 

"Charlotte is nowhere to be found," Victoria replied, in a whisper. "It is thought she may have eloped with Captain Richards." 

"Oh. Is that bad?" Zoë must have read the answer in Victoria's face, for she nodded. "I presume they're following the usual missing-persons procedure?" 

"What procedure?" 

"I don't know. Notifying the secur— the polic—" Zoë stopped, momentarily lost for words. "There must be _someone?_ " 

"Henry has gone to the militia camp." 

"Is there anything we should be doing?" 

Victoria shook her head. "We're women. It isn't proper for us to _do_ anything." 

She'd expected Zoë to pick up on her frustration, but instead all she got was "Fine." 

Zoë's presence did not greatly enhance the mood of the party. While Alicia and Victoria could hardly keep still for two minutes together, Zoë had at once politely asked for paper and a pencil, sat down, and set about drawing what seemed to be an elaborate map of the area. 

Supper was no more than a brief interlude; having eaten what they could, the ladies returned to the withdrawing-room to watch the light drain out of the sky. Alicia, by now pale and shaking, urged her guests to carry on as normal. It was not fair, she insisted, that her sister's folly should inconvenience them in any way. Zoë seemed ready to take her at her word; she was sitting at the table, still working on her map. Victoria tried once more to find solace in a book, but found herself reading the same page again and again. After a while Alicia pleaded a headache and left them. 

Victoria gave her book one more try. 

> ... When Matilda came to her apartment, the terror of her mind was unspeakable; all she had seen, all she had heard crowded upon her remembrance, and gave her the most horrible ideas... 

With a sigh, Victoria set the book down, resisting a momentary urge to fling it at the wall. "I said earlier it wasn't proper for us to try and find Charlotte," she said. "I would have expected you to object. Even I was half-inclined to." 

Zoë didn't look up from her sketch map. "I think we've got more important things to worry about." 

"But suppose it's true that she has eloped with Captain Richards?" 

"Why's that such a problem? They're both over the age of consent, aren't they?" 

"He hasn't got any money, any prospects, any family... they wouldn't have anything to live on. She'd be throwing her life away." 

"If it's her choice, why shouldn't she?" 

"Because they wouldn't be happy together. Didn't you see them at the ball?" 

"Of course I did." 

"Well, it was obvious that his attachment is nothing like as strong as hers." 

"On what do you base that proposition?" 

"Oh, Zoë! How can you be so observant and yet so blind? Don't you remember the way they were looking at each other?" 

"They were having a conversation. I'd expect them to be looking at each other." 

"Really? Then what we are presently having is obviously not a conversation. You have not looked up once from that scribble." Victoria picked up a chair, placed it beside Zoë's, and sat on it. "Will you please pay attention to me?" 

"I am." 

"No, you're not." Victoria leaned across and took the pencil out of Zoë's hand. "This is important." 

Zoë finally turned, and looked her in the eye. 

"Victoria," she said, and took a deep breath. "I do not doubt that your knowledge of this time is superior to mine, and in the matter of Charlotte and her young man I yield to your greater understanding of human nature. But if we lose sight of the reason that we were sent here, then by tomorrow night Charlotte's behaviour will not matter in the least, for a large asteroid will by then have fallen and we shall all be dust and ashes together. I appreciate that you may find the circumstances of our present situation..." She paused briefly, searching for the right word. "...alluring. We cannot allow it to detract from— or should that be distract from? Oh, I can't keep this up." 

"We'll make a Regency lady of you yet," Victoria said, smiling despite herself. 

"I hope not. It looks as if Regency ladies are supposed to sit around waiting for men to sort things out for them. And if they try to take matters into their own hands, they're called tomboys. Or flirts." Zoë gave her sketch map one last look, then rolled it up. "Victoria, I've just had a worrying thought." 

"Which is?" 

"Maybe they haven't eloped. Maybe—" Zoë paused. When she resumed, her voice was carefully flat and drained of emotion. "Maybe it's something to do with those flowers." 

"You think there may have been an accident?" Victoria swallowed, picturing the scene. Charlotte tripping in the roots of a tree, as Zoë had, but tumbling into a clump of the flowers, the glistening stems winding about her limbs. Her struggles weakening, as the tendrils dug into her flesh... 

"That's one possibility. And in that case... Yes, I think you're quite right. We should be looking for her. Come on, before it gets dark." 

"But you don't know where to look." 

"I've got a fairly good idea." Zoë tapped her sketch map. "I've done a bit of exploring this afternoon, and I didn't meet anybody. Therefore, if she's got mixed up with the flowers, it's got to be in the bit I haven't explored." 

She jumped to her feet.


	7. Love, Flirtation and Officers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria does not behave in a ladylike manner.

Darkness had not yet fallen, but it was clear that it would not long be delayed. Having passed through the woodland, Victoria and Zoë had gained the top of a low, grass-covered rise topped by the stump of a single tree. Their searches in the wood had proved fruitless; now, from this vantage point, they could see for some distance. 

"I don't see her anywhere," Victoria said. 

"No. Or— hello, who's that?" Zoë pointed down the other side of the ridge from the one they had ascended. A man on horseback was heading in their direction; doubtless he had seen them silhouetted against the evening sky. "Do you think it's a farmer?" 

"That's far too good a horse for a farmer. No, he is a soldier, I think." 

"Perhaps he's involved in the search and rescue operation." 

Victoria nodded. "In any event, if he wishes to speak to us, we should wait for him." 

"His uniform's blue," Zoë said, as the figure approached. "I think... yes, it is. That dimwitted Lieutenant from yesterday." 

"Then I hope this time you'll be properly courteous to him." She glanced at Zoë, but did not find the latter's stubborn expression encouraging. 

Before long, Lieutenant Dennis had arrived. He dismounted, tied his horse to the stump, and walked across to where Victoria and Zoë were standing. 

"What d'you know?" was his greeting. "What brings two pretty young ladies out on their own at this time o'night?" 

"Do you have any news?" Victoria asked. "Has anything been heard of Captain Richards or Miss—" 

"Richards? Ha! They found him in the attic of the White Horse two hours ago. Couldn't hold his drink, y'see. That's his trouble." 

_But not yours,_ Victoria thought. The fumes of alcohol on the man's breath were all too obvious. 

"And Miss Latham?" she asked. 

"No, she wasn't there. Why, is that the tale? Her and Jack Richards running away together?" He chuckled. "And when she didn't come, he took to drowning his sorrows. There's a pretty story, and no mistake." 

"I was merely enquiring if you had any news of her," Victoria said, repressively. 

"What's Miss Latham to me, when there's two better and richer misses right here? Did you know you're the talk of the camp? And I get my pick of the pair of you." 

Cold fear shot through Victoria. "Sir, I hope that..." 

"Don't bother hoping for anything: you'll not get it. And as for that little cousin o' yours, she needs a lesson in manners." He beckoned to Zoë. "Come here, girl, and I'll knock some of that impudence out of you." 

"If you try, you'll regret it," Zoë said. 

He darted forward, and made to grab her arm. This time, without the bustling crowd of the ball to distract her, Victoria was able to see the way that Zoë caught the man by the wrist, half-turned and ducked, using his own momentum to propel him to the ground. For a moment, he stared up at her in anger and disbelief; then, jumping to his feet, he made another run at her. His efforts were greeted with more success this time, or Zoë's foot caught in her long skirts, for their collision left them both sprawling on the grass. 

Zoë jumped to her feet, and froze. 

"You stay exactly where you are, girl," the Lieutenant said, his voice thick with anger. "At this distance I can't miss." 

The remark had obviously been addressed to Zoë, but Victoria, too, froze where she stood. She could see the pistol in the man's hand, its barrel pointing at Zoë. From the Lieutenant's face, it was clear that the situation was going from bad to worse. Before he'd had his tussle with Zoë, she'd wondered if she could have persuaded him to leave quietly. But by now, his wounded ego could not possibly allow it. He rose to his feet, keeping his eyes and pistol fixed on Zoë. 

"Now, step forward. And no funny business." 

Zoë remained exactly where she was, making no attempt to follow the man's orders. 

"Move!" The Lieutenant jerked the pistol. "I'll not tell you again." 

"Put down your pistol," Victoria heard herself say. 

"What?" For the first time since his attempt to grab Zoë, he seemed to notice Victoria. "You wait your—" 

"You can fire only once," Victoria said. "And once you have fired you are weaponless, for your sword hangs from the saddle of your horse." She didn't dare take her eyes from the Lieutenant's face, but she was positive no sabre hung at his waist. "Shoot one of us, and you will have no defence against the other." 

"Defence? What defence do I need against—" 

"You feel the need to ask?" Victoria took a step towards him. The black mouth of the pistol swung round to point at her. "My cousin has already shown you what she is capable of. We are both experts in this mode of combat. I could break your neck with my bare hands." 

"I don't believe you." There was the seed, no more, of doubt in his voice. 

"Believe or not as you choose." Victoria took another step forward. "If you wish to leave with—" 

Before she could complete her sentence, Zoë had taken advantage of the Lieutenant's distraction to close the distance between them and seize his gun arm. The pistol swung away from Victoria, back, then fell from the man's hand as he struggled with Zoë. 

Victoria darted forward and snatched the weapon up, as the Lieutenant tore himself free from Zoë's grip. 

"Stand still and raise your hands," she said, aiming the gun at him. "I never miss. Zoë, his sword is—" 

"Attached to the saddle of his horse," Zoë said. "You've said that once already." 

"Just so. I suggest you retrieve it." 

"Onto it." Zoë hurried across to the horse. Giving the animal as wide a berth as she could, she draw the sabre and returned with it, holding it awkwardly away from her body. 

"Lieutenant," Victoria said. "Before we allow you to go, answer us truly: When did you last see Charlotte Latham?" 

"Last night," the Lieutenant muttered. "At the ball." 

"And you have not seen her since, or heard any news of her whereabouts?" 

He almost spat the word "None." 

"Then go back to your camp. Do not come here again, unless invited." 

The Lieutenant's reply included a number of words which were unfamiliar to both his listeners, but were unlikely to be meant as compliments. But, with another glare at the pistol in Victoria's hand, he untied his horse, swung himself into the saddle, and rode away. Victoria watched him until he could no longer be seen in the dusk. 

"Are you all right?" Zoë asked. 

"Yes," Victoria said. "I believe so." 

"I asked because you're shivering." 

"I am?" Victoria looked down at her hands, and found they were shaking. "Please forgive me, but... I have not the least idea how I managed to bluff the Lieutenant like that." 

"You were bluffing, then? You don't actually have unarmed combat training?" 

Victoria shook her head. "That was a complete fabrication. But he knew you had that skill — I thought I might convince him that I had, too, since we're supposed to be related. As for the pistol" — she looked down at the gun in her hand as if seeing it for the first time — "I _am_ a reasonably good shot." 

"You're full of surprises today." Zoë stuck the sabre point-down in the ground, and rubbed her left hand. 

"How is your hand now?" Victoria asked, suddenly aware that she'd forgotten all about it in the excitement. 

"It's all right as long as I'm careful with it." Zoë shook her head, dismissing the subject — a gesture that Victoria was becoming quite familiar with. "Anyway, before that ape in the blue coat showed up, we were looking for Charlotte, weren't we? And she isn't here, so we need to continue our search before it gets dark." 

"It's getting dark now," Victoria said, looking around nervously. 

"Then we need to get on." Zoë held out her good hand. "Coming?" 

Victoria nodded. 

  


Out in the open, it had been possible to ignore the dimness of the evening. Under the trees, though, it was a different story. Colour had drained from the foliage, leaving it as indistinct masses of dark grey. As the vegetation closed around them, Victoria found herself imagining creatures lurking in the undergrowth around them — yetis or Daleks, or those earlier childhood nightmares of bears and wolves. She shivered, and tightened her grip on Zoë's hand. 

"Cold?" Zoë asked. 

"No, I'm frightened. Aren't you?" 

Zoë considered the question. 

"I think so," she said. "At least, judging by my physiological reaction, I am. I'm not sure it's made it through my mental conditioning yet." 

"Could you explain that, please?" 

"It's the training I went through. It's supposed to promote detachment, which can be very necessary when you're working in space. But it can damage your ability to feel things. I _want_ to feel things." 

She gasped slightly, and shivered in turn. 

"Oh. I see what you mean, now," she said. "I think I'm experiencing fear. Is this what it's been like for you all this time?" 

"Not knowing your exact feelings, I cannot be sure. But quite probably." 

"Well, let's get this over and done with." Zoë increased her pace a little. "Before long it'll be too dark to see at all." 

To Victoria, the journey seemed to stretch endlessly on as they stumbled along narrow, uneven paths or forced their way through undergrowth. Several times, she felt convinced that Zoë was lost, or that she recognised the ghostlike outline of one of the trees they passed. 

"I wish Jamie was here," she murmured. 

"Why?" Zoë asked, devoting most of her attention to picking her way between barely-visible puddles. "Would his skills be useful in this situation?" 

"Almost certainly. But that wasn't what I meant. I'm thinking of what he'd say. Something like 'Don't worry, lass, I'll keep you safe.'" 

Zoë sounded amused. "And then at the first sign of trouble he'd glomp you." 

"I'm not familiar with that word." 

"I mean this." Zoë hurled herself at Victoria and flung her arms around her, nearly knocking her off her feet. 

"Oh!" Victoria giggled nervously. "Yes, that's exactly what he'd do. But please don't give me shocks like that while I'm holding a loaded pistol." 

Zoë let go of her. "Sorry." 

"I take it when you met Jamie and the Doctor the situation was a dangerous one," Victoria said, as they once more began walking. "Given that he felt the need to, ah, 'glomp' you." She fell silent, and found her thoughts running on Jamie, wondering if she'd ever see him again. "Would you like to tell me what happened when you met?" she asked out loud, seeking a distraction. 

"The first I knew was when Jamie showed up at the door of my library..." Zoë began. 

As Zoë's story approached its conclusion, dim lights gradually became visible through the trees, and by the time Zoë had bidden the Doctor and Jamie farewell, it was clear that they belonged to a substantial building. 

"So that was that," Zoë said. "The Doctor and Jamie left and I—" For the first time since the beginning of her narration, she faltered. "I got back to the Wheel somehow or other." She glanced up. "And here we are: Priory House. Well, if Charlotte had had an accident in those woods, I think we would have found her. Whatever's happened to her, I don't think it was that." 

"Do you mind if I get rid of the gun?" Victoria said. "It would be a difficult thing to explain." 

"Feel free." 

Victoria tossed the pistol into a nearby ditch. It disappeared with a splash, its powder charge instantly rendered useless. "But if Charlotte did not come to grief in the woods," she said, "where can she be?" 

  


By comparison with the dark woods through which Victoria and Zoë had been walking, the gravel drive in front of Priory House seemed as bright as day, and the candlelit hall within, positively floodlit. Alicia, a shawl wrapped around her dress, hurried down the stairs to meet them. 

"My dear Miss Waterfield!" she exclaimed. "And Miss Heriot! Wherever have you been? Hawkins said you had gone out on your own." 

"We went looking for your sister," Zoë said. "We thought she may have taken a walk and— well, got into some sort of difficulty." 

"That was a kind thought, but for the two of you to go out on your own, after dark! You could have fallen prey to highwaymen or other vagabonds." 

"Well, we didn't." 

"That is most fortunate. Though I am afraid your efforts were in vain, for my sister has been found. Henry discovered her asleep under Parson's Oak." 

"Did she give any account of how she got there?" Victoria asked. 

"She claims that she went for a walk in that direction, and lost track of the time." Alicia's expression was dubious. "I suspect that she may have had other reasons for being there." 

"An assignation?" 

"Possibly. But for some reason, the gentleman concerned—" 

"You mean Captain Richards?" Zoë said. 

"I do. He did not arrive. I suspect that they made their arrangement at the ball, but some crucial detail or other was overlooked. Or perhaps one of them misheard the other. Consequently, they tried to meet at different places, or different times." 

"That sounds plausible, certainly," Victoria said. 

Zoë muttered something that sounded like "All heart and no brain," not quite loudly enough for Victoria to hear. 

"Charlotte is safe, at least, and not halfway to Scotland. Tomorrow I shall certainly give her a piece of my mind, but tonight I can only feel relief that she came to no harm. And our family will remember the efforts you have made today on our behalf." 

Victoria felt herself blanch slightly. She exchanged a look with Zoë, whose expression was grim. However grateful Alicia might be for their efforts, they were nothing more than a wild-goose chase, a distraction from their real reason for being here. The most likely result of this neglect, Victoria feared, would be the destruction of the entire village and its surroundings. From Zoë's face, it was clear that her thoughts were running on similar lines. 

"Miss Waterfield?" Alicia's voice broke in on her thoughts. "Are you well?" 

Victoria felt the impossibility of telling the whole truth weigh down on her. "We are both tired," she replied, the weariness coming to her voice without the need of any effort. 

  


"It's a good job Charlotte didn't decide to wait for her boyfriend anywhere near where we went this evening," Zoë said, as she neatly folded her dress. "Or she'd have been plant food." 

"I know." Victoria, already in her bed, yawned. "What can we do about those plants, Zoë? We have to stop them, but I cannot think how." She stifled another yawn. 

"Try to sleep," Zoë said. "We're no good to anyone worn out." 

"It's always when I most need to sleep that I find I cannot," Victoria mumbled. Almost before she had reached the end of the sentence, she found her eyes closing of their own accord. 

⁂

Zoë was standing before Victoria, glistening blue stems erupting from her left hand and twining about her forearm. As Victoria watched, the flesh close to the wrist bulged, split, and another stem emerged. 

"Now, this is quite simple," Zoë was saying, her voice cheerful and composed. "You've got to cut my arm off. Do you think you can manage that?" 

Victoria woke with a strangled cry, her heart pounding. The room, lit by pale moonlight, looked deceptively calm. For what felt like minutes, she struggled to breathe. 

"I suppose I deserved this," Zoë's voice whispered. 

Victoria gasped and shrank back as Zoë leaned over her. In the uncertain light, her expression wasn't clear, but she sounded almost amused. 

"For causing you all that inconvenience last night, I mean. Are we going to take turns at waking each other up?" 

"Don't—" Victoria found her throat was dry, swallowed, and started again. "Please, don't touch me." 

"Why?" 

"I dreamed about your hand. I thought... never mind what I thought." 

"Look." Zoë held out her left hand. "It's fine. It's healing nicely." 

Even in the uncertain moonlight it was plain that there wasn't the slightest trace of parasitic vegetation. Victoria took the proffered hand in both her own, reassured by its warmth. 

"It was silly of me," she said. "But I couldn't help thinking about you and Charlotte. As you said, she might easily have been plant food." 

"But you said you dreamed about me, not Charlotte." 

"The same thing could have happened to you. Zoë, what can we do to help these people?" 

"I think we need to make sure nobody goes into the wood tomorrow, or if they must, that they don't touch the plants. Or maybe we should just try to get everyone clear of the blast radius." 

"If the only problem was the plants, I'm sure Cariana would have some less catastrophic way to stop them." Victoria lay back and let her eyes close. "There must be some other factor at work." 

"Think about it tomorrow. You need to sleep now. Oh, have you finished with my hand?" 

Feeling herself blush in the darkness, Victoria released Zoë's hand, and once more let slumber claim her.


	8. Invariably Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a warning is ignored.

The last day of Victoria's and Zoë's stay with the Lathams dawned bright, clear and none too warm. They had risen early, well aware that time was a very precious commodity. 

"I would like to say thank you," Victoria said, adjusting her short corset. 

Zoë was bent over the washstand, her face unreadable. "What for?" 

"Last night—" 

"We can talk about that later. We need to stay focused." 

"Zoë, there might not be any later opportunity." 

"That's why we need to stay focused," Zoë replied triumphantly. 

Victoria sighed, but didn't dispute the point. In the situation they were in, business had to come first. 

  


As quickly as possible, they donned their remaining clean clothes, and set out in the direction of the mill. Before they were out of sight of the house, they heard Alicia calling out to them, and she arrived shortly afterwards at a run. From the disorder of her apparel it was clear that she, too, had risen and dressed in haste. 

"What are you doing?" she asked bluntly. 

"We're taking a morning walk—" Zoë began. 

Alicia made a gesture of negation. "Miss Heriot, whatever else you may be, you are a terrible liar. The errand that brings you out here at this time of the morning is obviously a much more serious matter than exercise. I saw Miss Waterfield's expression, and your own, when you returned from searching for my sister in these woods. What did you suspect had happened to her? What villain — or what creature — do you believe lies in waiting here?" 

"I think we'll have to tell her," Zoë said. 

Victoria nodded. "But on one condition. Miss Latham — Alicia — You must promise us that you will not tell anyone what we say and do today." 

Alicia clasped her hand. "I promise." 

"Very well." Victoria took a deep breath. "There is a kind of plant growing in the woods, which we believe poses a danger..." 

At first, it was difficult to tell how seriously Alicia was taking Victoria's tale, but as they penetrated deeper into the woods, and Victoria was able to point out the clumps of alien flowers, her words seemed to be falling on receptive ears. 

"What do you believe is the source of these flowers?" Alicia presently asked. 

"We don't really know," Zoë said. "Our only clue is that piece of metal you found down by the millpond. So we're going down there to have another look. And if we don't find anything, we need to get this area evacuated. By sunset everyone needs to be at least twelve kilome— sorry, they need to be at least seven and a half miles away. Further, for preference." 

"Dare I ask why?" 

"Because somewhere up there" — Zoë pointed skyward — "there's a large chunk of rock and iron heading this way. In about eight hours, it'll hit the earth not far from here, with an explosive force of— well, megatons, certainly. It'll flatten everything in a seven-mile radius." 

"How..." Alicia seemed to be struggling to find the words. "How do you know this?" 

"We were told that it would happen, unless certain conditions were met," Victoria said. "We have no other proof." 

"I can scarcely believe it myself." 

"Do you think many people would?" Zoë asked. "Even if we'd tried to warn them over the last few days, they'd just think we were crazy." 

"But you said that if 'certain conditions' were met, this calamity could be averted," Alicia said. "What are the conditions?" 

"That's the thing. We don't know, exactly. But finding the Doctor is definitely part of it." 

"He does exist, then? I was beginning to wonder if he was merely an invention." 

"He exists," Victoria said firmly. _I hope he still does,_ she privately added. 

⁂

"It's got to be somewhere here," Zoë said, after their third circuit of the pond had turned up nothing. "I plotted the coverage on my map, and the centre of the infestation is definitely in this area." 

"But if somebody planted the first flower here, that does not mean they would still be here for us to find, days or weeks later," Alicia pointed out. 

"I _know_. But we don't have anything else to go on." Zoë stooped, picked up a fallen branch, and hurled it into the pond. "When you found that bit of metal, I suppose you didn't notice if there were unusual footprints, or tracks, or anything like that?" 

Alicia shook her head, and gestured at the path. 

"As I recall, the ground looked as it does today," she said. 

Victoria looked down at their own footprints in the damp soil. "That would suggest that anyone who came this way was on foot, not on horseback or any wheeled conveyance." 

"That still leaves hovercraft," Zoë said. "Or some sort of antigrav." 

"But there is a chance, at least, that the person who dropped the metal was on foot. In which case, they must have come from close at hand. Whereabouts could that be?" 

"Indeed, I cannot imagine," Alicia said. "If they came up from the village, they would have had to pass the mill. Have you spoken to the miller?" 

Zoë shook her head. "I didn't think of that." 

"Let us do so, then." Alicia turned, and began to walk around the pond in the opposite direction. 

⁂

The miller was a burly, jovial man, who seemed to know Alicia, at least by sight. If he was surprised at her calling on him, one glance at Victoria and Zoë was all the explanation he needed; they were obviously aristocrats, from whom any amount of eccentric or arbitrary behaviour might be expected. Victoria went through what, by now, was a familiar routine. Starting with an enquiry after the Doctor she gently widened her questions to cover any other strangers in the area, or unexplained phenomena. As usual, the answers were in the negative. 

"You must welcome each fall of rain, however unpleasant the rest of us may find it," Victoria presently said, having exhausted all other lines of enquiry. "I know that to a miller, a dry summer may be disastrous." 

The man nodded. "True enough, miss. There've been times now and again when I've not been able to work for lack of water. But truth be told, the pond's uncommon high at the moment." 

"Really?" Zoë asked. She hadn't taken much part in the conversation, seemingly preferring to listen and study what she could see of the mill's mechanism. "I suppose if there was a lot of rain upstream, it could just have built up gradually." 

"No, 'twas quite a sudden thing — one night, week before last. Must've been a terrible storm up in the hills." He looked down, to see a little girl, perhaps three years of age. "Sally, where've you come from?" 

"Kitchen," the girl said. She looked up at the three visitors, and ducked behind her father. 

"Now, Sal, there's no harm in these ladies. You go back to the kitchen and wait for your mama to come home." 

"I must thank you for your patience, Mr Martin," Victoria said. "We have taken up far too much of your time with our questions. But there is one thing I must say. There is a terrible danger that threatens this village. You must take your wife and child, and leave with all haste." 

"And what kind of danger would that be, then?" 

Victoria took a deep breath. "A fireball will fall out of the sky today, destroying everything within seven miles of this place." 

"Will it, now?" He gave her a close look. "You've been listening to one of they Methodist preachers, haven't you? Fire from heaven and the Lord's vengeance and none will be spared and the rest of it. I've heard it all before and none of it happened." 

"I thought you would not believe me," Victoria said sadly. "But in all conscience, I had to try." 

"I saw a boat tied up by the pond," Zoë cut in, so abruptly that Victoria almost felt dizzy from the change of subject. "Is it yours and can we hire it? I think it would be a good idea if we could go boating on the millpond." 

"That's the boat I use to keep the sluices clear." The miller scratched his chin, obviously wondering whether he was dealing with eccentric aristocrats or outright lunatics. "I could let you hire it, if I was sure you'd bring it back." 

The negotiation that followed was perfunctory. Any uncertainty in the miller's mind that these were aristocrats with more money than sense was swiftly dispelled; Zoë's ignorance of pre-decimal currency and contemporary prices led her to open the bidding by offering the man something like a month's wages, with a deposit that would have been sufficient to buy several new boats. From then on the outcome was in no serious doubt. 

Having shaken hands on the deal, and with purses considerably lighter, the three set out once more for the pond. 

"What put the idea of a boat into your head?" Alicia asked. 

"He said the water level in the pond went up suddenly," Zoë said. "Maybe it's been displaced by some large object. If so, I think we need to find out what." 

"You mean another one of these stones that falls out of the sky?" 

"No, he couldn't have missed something like that. Even a little one would make a dreadful racket when it hit. This has to be something more controlled. Or perhaps I'm wrong and it is just water after all." 

"It is a shame he did not believe Miss Waterfield's warnings of disaster." 

"I said no-one would believe us," Zoë said. "The thing is, his logic is quite sound. People predict disaster all the time and they're almost invariably wrong." 

"If you— if _we_ are successful, then this prediction, too, will have been in error," Alicia said. 

Victoria sighed, and said nothing. She was finding that, try as she might, the image of the cheerful miller and his young daughter perishing in a firestorm would not leave her mind.


	9. Poke It With A Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a boating trip takes place.

Victoria looked nervously down at the boat. 

"I suppose, if this is the only boat, we must use it," she said. 

"Well, yes," Zoë said. "Come on." 

She made to climb into the boat. Her foot slipped on the bank, or perhaps it was the motion of the boat that caused her to lose her balance; she swayed, waving her arms wildly. More by luck than judgement, she toppled into the boat rather than the water. 

"Are you hurt?" Alicia asked, trying not to laugh. 

"Just bruised, I think." Zoë rubbed her elbow, and tried to sit up. "Sorry, I'm not used to boats." 

Alicia turned to Victoria. "Do you have more experience in this?" 

"By no means." Victoria looked down into the boat, which was still rocking wildly as Zoë climbed onto the thwart. "I am prone to seasickness." 

"Even on this pond? It is as flat as glass!" 

"On any body of water, however still." Another thought struck Victoria. "Can you swim?" 

"I cannot." Alicia swallowed. "If the boat were to overturn— this will be more dangerous than I imagined. Do you swim, Miss Waterfield?" 

"Enough to get by. Mrs Harris insisted that I learn. Zoë, what about you?" 

"Probably," Zoë said. "I've never tried." 

"If you've never tried, how can you...?" 

"Well, I was taught the necessary techniques in mind-training school. But it was all done by mental conditioning. There wasn't a practical test." 

Victoria sighed. "This does not inspire me with confidence." 

"My placement was on a space station," Zoë said, sounding affronted. "The possibility that I might fall out of a boat seemed remote at the time." 

"We must hope for the best, then." Victoria thought of the miller, his children, and his laughter at the thought of any danger. "We must save the village and its people, whatever the cost." 

Before her resolve could fade, she clambered into the boat. 

⁂

Sitting side by side in the boat, Alicia and Zoë tugged at the oars, attempting to make up in energy what they lacked in skill. At the stern, Victoria guided them as best she could, while trying to ignore the motion of the boat. 

"We need to go a bit to the right," she said. "So I think that means Zoë shouldn't row so hard." 

"OK." Zoë obligingly moderated her rowing. "How's your vestibular system coping?" 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"I meant, are you feeling seasick or anything?" 

"Not until you asked me." Victoria wondered if her queasiness was down to the motion of the vessel, or her fear of what might happen if they failed. _Why am I here?_ she wondered. _All I can do is feel afraid._

"What are we intending to achieve by doing this?" she asked out loud. 

"Hopefully, find out if there's anything down there. Can you see anything?" 

With great care, Victoria leaned over the side of the boat, and peered at the murky water. "I cannot see a thing," she said. 

"Maybe we should drag the lake." Zoë looked blank for a moment. "How does one drag a lake, anyway?" 

"I have no idea." Privately, Victoria reflected that Zoë seemed to be picking up Regency turns of phrase — a few days earlier, she would never have begun a question 'how does one'. 

"That's not very— oh!" Not for the first time, Zoë caught a crab; her oar swept her off the thwart and deposited her at Victoria's feet. Alicia reached down to help her back into her seat, causing the boat to rock wildly and ship water. Victoria hastily reached for a battered earthenware bowl which she had earlier found in the prow of the boat, and began to bail. 

"Maybe we'll need to dive," Zoë said, as she settled back into position and took up her oar once more. 

"I cannot swim, let alone dive," Alicia reminded her. "How, in any case, could you possibly dive wearing that dress?" 

"I'd take it off first, of course." 

"You would— but that would be—" 

"If taking my dress off in public is necessary to save the world, what do you— ow!" Once more, Zoë was knocked off her seat and landed in the bottom of the boat. 

"You should pay more attention to your rowing," Victoria said. The boat was once again rocking violently, and she could feel her stomach protesting. 

"It's not my fault. I think there's something wrong with the oars. Or maybe the water." 

"That is as—" Victoria broke off and leaned over the side of the boat, taking deep breaths, and fearing at any moment she might lose her breakfast. 

"Are you unwell, Miss Waterfield?" Alicia asked. 

Victoria forced herself to breathe deeply, and felt the turmoil in her innards subside. "I am sorry," she said. "The motion of the vessel is..." She broke off her polite apology as something in the water caught her eye. "What's that down there?" 

"What's what?" Zoë asked, leaning over on the same side. Had Alicia not hastily thrown her weight to the opposite side, the boat would have capsized altogether. 

"There." Victoria pointed into the depths. "Do you see it? That... rectangular thing." 

"It looks like it's made of plastic, doesn't it? And plastic" — Zoë put her fingers to her temples — "Plastic hasn't been invented yet." 

That, Victoria thought, was not the only mystery about what she had seen. It certainly looked like a square, orange-red, hand-sized piece of plastic, floating a few feet below the surface. But why did it not drift this way and that with every current? And was it her imagination, or was it glowing slightly? 

"I think we should get closer to it," she said. "I shall guide you." 

"There's definitely something wrong with the water," Zoë said, after rowing a few more strokes with exaggerated care. "It's getting denser than it should." 

Alicia nodded. "I agree. This is as if we were rowing through soup." 

Cautiously, Victoria lowered an arm into the water. It felt like ordinary water, but her companions were right; it offered more resistance to her hand than it ought. The ripples spreading around her hand seemed to be moving too slowly, as well. 

"I see what you mean," she said. She withdrew her hand, and shook the water off it. Where the droplets hit the lake, the resulting ripples moved far too sluggishly. 

Zoë gritted her teeth as she tugged at her oar. "If it gets much worse we'll be able to get out and walk." 

"Not much further." Victoria peered into the water. "Miss Latham, could you moderate your rowing a little? Thank you." 

"The viscosity's still increasing," Zoë said. "We must be getting close to the centre of whatever the effect is." 

"And... I think that is as close as we can get." Victoria held up her hand. In the water below them, the glowing square looked deceptively close, almost close enough to touch. 

Zoë leaned over the side of the boat once again; in the unnaturally thick water, the vessel did not so much rock as slowly tilt in her direction. Alicia had ample time to provide a counterbalance. 

"That's definitely not a natural phenomenon," Zoë said. "It's completely stationary and it's glowing." 

"I think so, too," Victoria said. "But what does it mean?" 

"I'm not sure. Maybe if I could get close to it..." Zoë lowered her own hand into the water. "I wouldn't like to try diving in this. The fluid dynamics wouldn't be anything like normal water." 

"Then what do you propose?" 

"I'm not sure." Zoë withdrew her hand from the water, and looked down at the oar beside her. A mischievous smile spread across her face. "I suppose we could poke it with a stick." 

She took up the oar, and, once more leaning precariously out of the boat, thrust it into the water. 

"That's odd," she said. 

"What?" 

"There's something solid down here. Something I can't see... Can one of you hang onto me?" 

Hesitantly, Alicia took hold of Zoë's shoulders, while Victoria struggled to trim the boat. Victoria could not help thinking that, were it not for the unusual quality of the water, the boat would long since have been overturned by Zoë's reckless behaviour. 

"What can you see?" Alicia asked breathlessly. 

"I can't **see** anything different. But that square thing feels as if it's attached to something invisible. If I can just reach... got it!" 

A low, grinding, gurgling noise rose from the pond all around them. As Zoë pulled the oar back on board, the area of water she had been probing churned, rose up into a low dome, then collapsed, sending out unnaturally slow ripples in all directions. The boat lurched this way and that, and for a few moments its three occupants could do nothing but cling to it and to each other, hoping that stability would be restored. 

As the ripples subsided, and Victoria was once more able to pay attention to less immediate matters, she looked at where the disturbance had been. A circle of light, two feet across and the same red-orange colour as the submerged panel, seemed to be lying on the surface of the water, or perhaps protruding slightly above it. Within the circle, all that could be seen was darkness. 

"What do you think?" Zoë asked. Her sleeves were dripping, her hair disarranged, but the expression on her face was triumphant. "I think, whatever's down there, this could be the way in. That panel must be some kind of access control." 

"I do not understand," Alicia said. 

"We have rung the front door bell," Victoria suggested. "Now the door has been opened for us." 

"That's about it. Anyway, we need to see what's in there." Zoë had already taken up her oar. "I think we can do it by paddling." 

She suited her action to her words. As the boat drew closer to the circle, it became clear that it was the top of a cylindrical shaft — a shaft that remained stubbornly invisible from the outside. A metal ladder was attached to its inner surface, leading down into unknown, red-lit depths. 

"You are going in there?" Alicia asked, as the boat bumped against the unseen outer surface of the cylinder. 

"We have no choice in the matter. I think—" Victoria found her mouth suddenly dry, and had to start again. "I think I should go first." 

"I'll go first if you'd rather," Zoë said. "I did a course on first-contact protocol." 

"I must." 

"Is it because you don't want us looking up your skirt while you're on the ladder?" 

Victoria managed a weak laugh. "If only it were that simple." She briefly considered trying to explain her actual motives, and as quickly dismissed the notion. In theory, she was the most experienced time traveller of the party, one who was obviously the most qualified to deal with whatever was at the bottom of the shaft. In practice, she doubted that she would be the slightest use. Perhaps, then, she was doing this because she believed herself to be expendable? 

With Zoë's and Alicia's help, she clambered onto the ladder, and set about descending, one rung at a time. Above her, the circle of blue-grey sky steadily shrank, leaving her in the red-tinted glow of the wall lights. Once or twice she had to stop, as her hands and legs were shaking so badly that she was in danger of falling. 

The bottom of the shaft opened into a chamber, again lit in shades of red, and lined with incomprehensible controls. There seemed to be no other way out. 

"I'm at the bottom," she called up. "I think this must be an airlock." 

"I'll come and take a look," Zoë shouted back. Almost immediately, her silhouette was visible climbing down the ladder, and in moments she was standing beside Victoria. Shortly afterward, Alicia joined the two, gazing around in wide-eyed wonder. 

"Mercy!" she exclaimed. "Is this a place, or a machine?" 

"Probably both." Zoë was examining the various controls. "I think this has to cycle the airlock." 

She tapped at one button, then another. A panel slid across the shaft they had descended, cutting off the view of the sky. Air stirred in the chamber, warm gusts that ruffled Victoria's hair. Then, another panel slid open in front of Victoria. Almost without thinking, she stepped through it. 

The light here was a little brighter, though no less red, and the space much larger than the cramped airlock. It was lined with elaborate metal racks, laden with boxes, trays, bundles, all neatly arranged and labelled. 

Standing a few feet away from Victoria was a dark, furry figure, easily seven feet high. As her eyes fell on it, she let out an involuntary shriek, but it did not react. Cautiously, she approached it. It remained motionless — was it a statue, or perhaps the product of taxidermy? 

"What is it?" Alicia whispered, tiptoeing cautiously toward the creature. "A waxwork?" 

Victoria walked around the figure, and looked up into what must be its face. As if the height had not been evidence enough, she could tell this was no human; the features had the same arrangement as her own, but the pale, bulbous eyes were far, far too big. They remained fixed on the nearest rack, giving no indication that the creature had noticed Victoria or the others. 

"I do not think so," she said. She managed to tear her eyes from the creature's face, and look at the rest of its body — which, again, was of approximately human plan, but different in its proportions. "Whatever it is, it is not a wild animal. Wild creatures do not wear clothes." 

"It's got something in its hand, too," Zoë added. "Does that look like a clipboard to you?" 

Taking care not to touch the figure, Victoria looked at the clipboard, if clipboard it was. The surface was indented slightly, marked with neat columns of squiggles that were presumably some kind of writing. 

"It does," she said. "It is as if it— he— was taking stock, when something froze him where he stands." 

"Have you seen a creature like that before?" 

Victoria shook her head. "Never." 

"Pity. If you had..." 

"Then I might have known if they are dangerous." Victoria squared her shoulders. "It cannot be helped. I think we must continue our explorations." 

At the far end of the corridor, a broad, gently-curving ramp led down to what appeared to be a lower level. Rather than neatly-stacked racks, this chamber contained a jumble of machines, arranged without any sign of order or symmetry. Some were separated by narrow walkways; others stood in the middle of open spaces. Wires squirmed across the floor, or coiled around columns to hang in loops from the ceiling. 

In one such open area, five or six creatures — some shorter than Victoria, some taller, one a giant twice her height, but all broadly similar to the one they'd encountered before — were gathered in a circle around something Victoria could not see. Again, they were frozen in their positions, showing no sign of awareness. 

"Those clothes must be uniforms," Zoë said. "Look, they're all the same basic colour and pattern. It may be possible to work out things like rank from the detail differences." 

Victoria nodded. "They're all quite elaborate." She took a step closer, and let out a gasp. In between the legs of one of the creatures, she had caught a glimpse of some very familiar checked trousers. 

"Doctor!" she shouted, and ran forward, ducking between two of the creatures. 

In roughly the centre of the circle, the Doctor was kneeling beside a machine, smaller than most of the others in the room, which seemed to be partly stripped down. Like the creatures, he was motionless, with no more seeming life than a statue. 

"Doctor?" She bent over him, reached out, then draw her hand back, suddenly afraid of what might happen if she touched him. 

"So this is your Doctor," Alicia said, in the voice of one who has passed beyond all surprise. "Yes, he matches the description. I had almost made up my mind that he was no more than an invention." 

Victoria looked up at the other two. "But what's happened to him?" 

"Maybe there's some kind of force field holding everyone in stasis?" Zoë suggested. 

"And if the force field were to be turned off, would everybody and everything here be released?" 

Zoë shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." 

"I think we must learn more." Victoria transferred her attention from the Doctor to the machine he was, apparently, working on. It was roughly the size of a large suitcase. What was probably its outer shell had been removed and set on one side, revealing a number of circuit boards and odd-looking disc-shaped assemblies. On top of the machine was a flat glass panel covered with glowing symbols. As she watched, one of the symbols winked out. 

"Did you see that?" she asked. 

"It changed." Zoë's eyes were fixed on the device, and the fingers of her left hand were beating out a pattern that Victoria couldn't follow. "It's the only thing here that isn't frozen in time. Well, apart from us, of course." 

"Do you think the device may be what is holding everything in..." Victoria recalled the word that Zoë had used. "Stasis?" 

"I don't see why not." Zoë still didn't look up, and the rhythm she was beating out with her left hand had now grown to include her right forefinger. 

"Can you discover anything about it?" 

"What do you want me to do? Reverse-engineer the—" Zoë broke off, as the symbol glowed once more. "Seventy-two seconds." She briefly stopped tapping her fingers, then resumed. "I think you'd need a team of specialists and a laboratory to get a proper understanding of something like that." 

"But you will examine it?" 

"I suppose so." 

Victoria climbed to her feet and once more ducked between the creatures, joining Alicia at the edge of the circle. 

"This must be a great shock for you," she said, in low tones. 

"I thought I knew the world," Alicia murmured. "I knew nothing. Nothing." 

Victoria took her hand. "You could go back. Climb the ladder, take the boat, and return to your home. There is no need for you to remain here and share whatever our fate will be." 

"And never know what became of you? I could not bear it." She looked around the chamber. "How can you be so calm, surrounded by all these monstrosities?" 

_**Am** I calm?_ Victoria wondered, and realised to her surprise that she was. The Doctor was frozen in time, she was surrounded by monsters that might, at any moment, come to life and kill them all, and somewhere outside the atmosphere an asteroid was hurtling toward them all. And yet, ever since she set foot in the spaceship, she had been conquering and controlling her fears. 

"I do not know," she said out loud, and gently squeezed Alicia's hand. "But I know that I cannot and will not abandon you here." 

"Victoria," Zoë called, from where she was kneeling by the machine. 

"Yes?" 

"This light's speeding up. The first cycle was seventy-two seconds. Each successive one's been shorter." 

"Is that important?" 

"I don't know. But it makes me wonder what happens when the delay gets down to zero." 

Victoria looked around at the looming, motionless creatures. "Or maybe the delay is the same..." 

"And it's time that's slowing down for us." 

"Then we must stop it." 

"Otherwise we'll end up frozen to the spot until the asteroid hits, just like the Doctor and all these creatures." 

Victoria took a deep breath. " **Can** you stop it?" 

"I can try. I think I've found the power supply. I could disconnect it and see what happens." 

"Excuse me," Alicia said. "Might I ask a question?" 

"Go ahead," Zoë said. 

"Whatever it is you plan to do — am I correct that it will bring these creatures to life?" 

"I think it's highly likely." 

"And you cannot tell what they will then do to us?" 

"No idea." 

Alicia shivered. "But if you do not wake them..." 

"Then we're no further forward." 

A brief, uneasy silence fell. Victoria, with a slight shock, realised that the other two were looking to her for guidance. 

"If they are rational, perhaps we can talk to them," she said. "Tell them of the approaching danger. Whatever they do to us subsequently. Zoë..." She found her mouth dry, and swallowed. "Disconnect the power." 

Zoë nodded, reached into the machine, and pulled.


	10. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria puts herself forward.

With a burst of sound, heat and crimson light, activity resumed all around them. Two of the creatures standing around the machine stepped back as, from their point of view, Zoë popped into existence directly in front of them. The air was filled with high-pitched chirruping, complicated enough that it must be language. 

"Great jumping gobstoppers!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Zoë! Where did you—" 

The largest creature leaned down, scooped Zoë up, and tucked her under its arm. Another glanced around, caught sight of Victoria and Alicia where they were standing outside the circle, and gestured at them, speaking in the same chirruping language. One of the smaller creatures sprang at Victoria, tackling her to the ground. A shriek from nearby told her that Alicia, too, was a captive. 

Victoria twisted round, trying to make eye contact with her captor. 

"We have something important to tell you," she said. She was trying to keep her voice steady, and not to think about alien claws and teeth tearing her apart. "Please, you must listen to me!" 

The creature that had spoken before took a few steps in her direction. There was something in its hand that had to be a weapon, pointed at her. 

"You can start by telling where you three sprang from," it said. Compared to a human, its mouth moved far too little, and its English, though grammatically excellent, sounded high-pitched and oddly accented. "And what you think you're doing here." 

Victoria took a deep breath. 

"We were sent here to look for the Doctor," she said. 

"Sent?" That was the Doctor, standing by the machine. "Who by?" 

"The Lady Carianathri... something." 

"Carianathriquesorianta," Zoë said. 

"Oh, my word!" the Doctor exclaimed. 

"You know her?" the creature asked. 

"No, but I can guess who she represents." He looked up at the creature towering over him. "Please can you put Zoë down, Gilbert? She's quite friendly, really." 

"Tell us how the three of you got in here," the creature standing over Victoria said. "You appeared out of nowhere, and I want to know how." 

With occasional interjections from Zoë and Alicia, Victoria recounted the tale of how they'd got aboard and found the ship's occupants frozen in a moment of time. It was impossible to tell how her tale was being received: the aliens' facial expressions and body language were opaque to her. She tried to state the information clearly and straightforwardly, but at the back of her mind was always the nagging knowledge that in the world outside, the flowers were spreading inexorably through the countryside, and the asteroid was getting closer with each word she spoke. Before she could broach either of those topics, though, a halt was called to her narrative. 

As soon as she had stopped talking, the aliens began to debate among themselves. There was no lack of body language now; at several points, they seemed almost at the point of blows. Victoria, still pinioned on the floor, unable to act or even follow the discussion, found herself a prey to her own fears and worries once more. She had not been eaten yet, but it did not seem likely that she would be leaving this place intact. 

When the debate reached its conclusion, whatever it was, the same creature that had spoken before approached her once more. 

"Let them get up," it said. "Gilbert, you can put the other one down. But keep hold of her." 

Victoria felt herself released, and clambered to her feet. Across the room, Zoë, now also standing, flashed her a smile that exhibited more confidence than she was probably feeling. 

"What are you going to do to us?" she asked. 

"We haven't decided yet," the alien replied. "We need to talk it over again. For now, we're going to keep you in the brig under lock and key." 

"But we need to tell you about the flowers!" Zoë protested. "And there's an asteroid coming—" 

The Doctor held up his hand. "It's no good, Zoë. They won't listen." 

⁂

The ship's brig was small, lit by the same red light that filled the entire ship, and seemed not to be frequently used. The giant alien, whom the Doctor called 'Gilbert', had had to remove several boxes of cargo before ushering his three captives in. He then locked the door behind them and, presumably, went away, though his footstep was light enough that his departure made no sound. 

Victoria slumped on the bench which was the brig's main piece of furniture, overcome by a sudden wave of exhaustion. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. 

"Why won't they listen?" she asked the empty air. 

"I suppose, from their point of view, they've got no reason to trust us," Zoë suggested. "And at least they didn't dismiss us out of hand. But they aren't behaving as I'd have expected." 

"They aren't human. Aliens seldom behave as we expect them to." 

"I know, but they have some things in common with us, don't they? They live in a spaceship and they breathe air. So do I... well, I live on a space station, but the principle's the same." Zoë got to her feet, and began to pace the tiny chamber. "My point is, space is a dangerous environment, and we're trained to be on the alert for possible threats. If I was in charge of this ship and someone mentioned an asteroid coming my way, I'd want to know all about it at once." 

"I take your point." Victoria nodded. "But this ship is not presently in space; perhaps they feel they can relax their vigilance." 

"It's still careless of them... Victoria? Are you all right?" 

Victoria closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. "I'm tired, that's all." 

"Would you like something to eat? I think this must be some kind of food machine." There was a whirring noise, and the sound of pouring liquid. Victoria opened her eyes again, to see that Zoë was now holding in her left hand a metal bowl, a larger version of the one Victoria had found in the escritoire a few days ago. It contained a grey sludge, of unappetising appearance. Cautiously, Zoë probed the substance with her index finger. 

"What is it?" Alicia asked. "It looks like porridge." 

Zoë withdrew her finger and licked it. "I'd guess it's supposed to provide basic nutrition." She grimaced, and set the bowl down on the bench. "Whatever it is, it tastes absolutely dreadful." 

"I don't feel hungry." Victoria closed her eyes again, and tried to collect her thoughts. "For the last four days I've been hoping that we'd find the Doctor and then everything would be sorted out. Now we've found him, and we're no further forward! What more can we do?" 

"You're the one who knows about aliens," Zoë replied impatiently. "You tell us." 

"But I don't know anything!" 

Alicia patted Victoria's hand. "Miss Waterfield, you do yourself a disservice. Without your knowledge and ability, we would not have come even as far as we have." 

"That's very kind of you," Victoria said. "But there is nothing any of us can do. Unless our captors' carelessness extends to leaving the door of our prison unlocked." 

Zoë was at the door in two steps. "It doesn't." 

"Then I think we shall have to place our trust in the Doctor once more." 

"Do you think these creatures are keeping the Doctor prisoner?" Alicia asked. 

"I don't think so," Zoë said. "They were using this place as a storeroom, weren't they? So he can't have been locked up here." 

"That's encouraging," Victoria said. 

"Unless he'd only been their prisoner a few hours when the time field started, and they hadn't got around to locking him up yet." 

"And that is somewhat less encouraging." Once more, Victoria closed her eyes and strove for inner calm. 

  


Victoria was unsure if she had dozed, and if so for how long, but at the sound of footsteps she opened her eyes and sat up straight. The door of their cell slid open, admitting the Doctor. Behind him she could make out the figures of several of the aliens. 

"Doctor!" Zoë was already on her feet. 

The Doctor leaned against the wall, an affectionate smile on his face. 

"Won't you introduce me to your friend?" he asked. 

"Oh." Victoria tried to clear her head of the last vestiges of drowsiness. "Doctor, may I present Miss Alicia Latham. Miss Latham, the Doctor." 

Alicia stood, the better to curtsey. "I am honoured to make your acquaintance," she said, sounding as if she scarcely knew where she was. 

"Now, then." The Doctor clasped his hands. "Our hosts would like to speak with one of you." 

"I should think so, too," Zoë said. "There's an asteroid heading right for this part of the planet. I'd have thought that was fairly important." 

"Right, then. Zoë, come along." 

"Wait!" Alicia interjected. "Please forgive me if I speak out of turn, but it is my firm belief that Miss Waterfield — Victoria — should be our representative." 

"Victoria?" the Doctor asked, sounding a little surprised. 

"I believe she would be better suited by — pray forgive me, Miss Heriot — by temperament." 

Zoë folded her arms. "You think I'd upset them?" 

"You might say what you think," Victoria couldn't help replying. "It's a tendency I have noticed in you. And if there is any danger attached to this interrogation, I should prefer to spare both of you from it." 

"I hadn't thought of that." Zoë unfolded her arms again, and helped Victoria to her feet. "If you're sure..." 

"I am." 

"Then good luck." And with that, Zoë embraced her. 

"Thank you. I hope to see you both directly." Victoria turned to the Doctor. "I am ready now." 

The Doctor held out his hand. "Then come with me." 

Hand in hand with the Doctor, and with alien guards before and behind, Victoria was led through a series of red-lit companionways to what appeared to be the ship's control room. Two or three of the creatures were sitting in front of workstations, but spun their chairs around to face her as she was brought in. 

"Captain," the Doctor said, "This is Victoria Waterfield. Victoria, this is Captain Samuel." 

"Pleased to meet you," one of the creatures — presumably Captain Samuel — said. "What did you want to tell us about flowers and asteroids?" 

Victoria took a deep breath. "To begin with the asteroid: Cariana — she sent us here, and I understand her to be one of the Doctor's people. She told us that if we had not contacted her by sunset today, an asteroid would strike the planet and destroy everything within seven miles of this place." 

"She'd blow a chunk out of the planet just to make sure you would speak to her?" the Captain asked. 

"We thought it was an overreaction at first. But yesterday, Zoë discovered things like blue flowers growing in the woodland. She believes they originated in the area of this pond. They are not like any plant I have seen on Earth, and we believe they could be deadly to anyone who got caught up in them. The likelihood is..." She plucked up her courage. "The likelihood is that they came from your ship." 

"Can you prove this?" 

"Miss Latham discovered an aluminium dish, perhaps this large, beside the pond," Victoria said, with all the confidence she could muster. "It must have come from your ship. We did not know what it contained, but its presence so close to the source of the flowers cannot be a coincidence." 

The Captain considered the matter briefly, then turned to a panel on the wall and tapped at a button. A short conversation took place in the aliens' own language; then the Captain turned back to Victoria. 

"Jolyon's doing a stocktake now," he said. "How do I know this asteroid story isn't all a bluff?" 

The Doctor cleared his throat. "I think it might be a good idea to switch on the navigation sensors." 

One of the other aliens, not waiting for orders from the Captain, spun round and flicked a few switches on his workstation. A display lit up, showing a complicated pattern of concentric hemispheres, with a red dot at the centre. Another dot, purplish in colour and blinking, was visible in the outermost hemisphere. 

"They're not bluffing," the alien said. "That's either an asteroid or something just as big, and it's heading right for us." 

"Then get the engine warmed up," the Captain said. 

"If we had a working engine we wouldn't be here now, would we?" 

The Captain, seemingly not feeling that English was sufficient to do justice to his feelings, replied in his own language. The other aliens in the room were soon also involved in the dispute. Seeing that their attention was no longer on her, Victoria turned to the Doctor. 

"Is it true about their engine?" she said. "Was that what you were trying to repair?" 

"Not exactly. Their main engine's out of action, so they're stranded here. But they had a second-hand time shunt in their cargo, and I offered to help them get it working as a substitute. It turned out to be a little more complicated than I thought." 

"How came you to be working for them?" 

"They've also got some components that I need to repair the TARDIS. They agreed to let me have them in exchange for my technical help." He nodded at the group of aliens. "This is a merchant ship. They can't resist a bargain." 

"Doctor, where is—" 

Before Victoria could complete her sentence, a high-pitched squeal came from the intercom panel. The Captain disengaged himself from the ongoing dispute and exchanged a few chirps with the panel. 

"Someone's been at the biological specimens," he said. "They're all mixed up anyway, but at least one's missing: Ethunarian groundcreeper. Maybe there's something in your story." 

"Victoria's not the sort to lie," the Doctor said. "If you were carrying this plant, do you have anything that might kill it?" 

The Captain made a gesture which, Victoria supposed, was his equivalent of a shrug. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Why should I care?" 

The image of the miller's young daughter floated into Victoria's mind. 

"Because unless you do something, a great many people will die needlessly!" she snapped. "If you had never come here, this dangerous plant would not have been released to spread across the world." 

The Captain took a step toward Victoria, his huge eyes fixed on her. 

"They'll die because of the asteroid. An asteroid your boss is sending." He jabbed a hand in Victoria's direction, by way of emphasis. "Talk to her, not me." 

"I beg to differ. That plant is dangerous, asteroid or no. It injured Zoë's hand, and could easily have killed her." Victoria took a deep breath. "I demand that you make appropriate recompense to us, and to the people of Withybridge." 

"By destroying the groundcreeper?" 

"Without harming any other life in the area," the Doctor added. 

The Captain glanced from one to the other. "If I do this, do you believe the asteroid will be diverted?" 

"I believe so," Victoria said. 

He clasped her hand in his. "Then we have a deal."


	11. Recompense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Time Lady makes certain demands.

It was hard for Victoria to imagine a greater contrast with her previous journey across the pond. One of the lesser vehicles that belonged to the spaceship had whisked her, Alicia and Zoë to the shore in seconds. Its pilot, one of the smaller aliens, who appeared to rejoice in the name 'Jolyon', had set the craft down with an air of carelessness, and now pressed a prominent switch on the control panel. With a hum, the skimmer's outer hatch dilated, admitting daylight and fresh air. After so long in the red light of the ship, Victoria found her eyes watering from the brightness, and had to squint. 

Jolyon rose to his feet, and beckoned his passengers to follow. Rubbing her eyes, Victoria made her way through the hatch and stepped gratefully onto solid earth. From the outside, the skimmer was no more visible than the spaceship had been; all that could be seen was the entrance hatch, a dark oval with a glowing orange rim. 

Victoria found herself uneasily glancing at the sky, as if she might see the asteroid descending, wreathed in flame. But all she could see was a mass of grey cloud. 

"The asteroid would be in that sector of the sky," Zoë said, her voice making Victoria jump. "But you wouldn't see it until it gets dark, and even then it would only look like a planet until the last few minutes." 

"I envy you your sang-froid," Victoria said. 

"Please don't say that. I know my emotional side's broken. It's not something to envy." 

Jolyon made a trilling noise that seemed to be his species' way of clearing its throat. "You say you found the original sample somewhere here?" 

"About here," Alicia said. "I cannot be more precise." 

"It ought to be close enough," Zoë said. "I expect he'll use a short-range genetic scanner to locate the focus of the infestation and—" 

She broke off, as Jolyon produced an iridescent sphere from a pocket of his uniform and squeezed it. A jet of liquid shot out, seemingly at random, and struck a nearby tree. 

"There you are," he said cheerfully. "That'll probably do it." 

"Do what?" Zoë asked. 

"Something or other. With a bit of luck." 

Despite the gravity of their situation, Victoria couldn't help smiling at Zoë's outraged expression. "These are people after the Doctor's heart, I see." 

"But how do we know if it's worked?" Zoë persisted. 

"I suppose you could always find some of the flowers and see what happens to them." 

Zoë made an unladylike noise and stalked into the woodland. 

"Might I ask a question?" Alicia said. "You are really from another world?" 

"That's right," Jolyon said, still with the same air of cheerful unconcern. "We're Yulosi and we come from Ropka. At least, that's the closest you can get in your language." 

"But your names?" Victoria asked. "They are all human names." 

"When we land on a world we take names from that world. We find it helps when we're doing business." 

"Business?" Alicia repeated. 

"The Doctor said they were traders," Victoria said. She looked across at Jolyon. "What could this world offer you? Surely you could match anything they could make." 

"We didn't choose to land here, remember. And even a primitive civilisation like yours has to eat and drink. Your food would have novelty value if nothing else." 

"And while one of you was exploring our world, he had the container with him, dropped it, and unleashed the groundcreeper upon us," Alicia said. 

"Sounds likely." 

Victoria kept her eyes fixed on Jolyon, wishing she had a better grasp of his body language. "Pardon me if I misunderstand you, but you don't seem very concerned about the consequences that might have followed." 

"In our line of trade, you get used to it. Planets get contaminated now and again. It usually works out." 

"I said you were people after the Doctor's heart," Victoria said, with a shudder. "You may consider that opinion withdrawn." 

An uneasy silence fell, which was broken by the return of Zoë. By the look of her dress, she'd spent at least some of the time scrambling through undergrowth on her hands and knees. 

"It does seem to be working," she said. "The plants are withering, and it's most advanced in the ones closest to here than further away. And none of the native species seem to be affected." 

"There you are," Jolyon said. "Nothing to worry about." 

Once again, Victoria looked up at the sky. "But even if the plants will now be destroyed, does Cariana know this? Has she turned the asteroid away?" 

"You'd better come back to the ship with us, and we can check." 

"Then I suppose..." Alicia said hesitantly. "I suppose we had better part company here. I cannot be of any help to you on the ship, and my absence is sure to have been noticed by now." 

Victoria put her hand on Alicia's arm. "Are you sure? You don't want to wait until we are certain?" 

"If you have indeed averted disaster, I should return at once. And if you have not, I would rather spend my last minutes with my family than escape with you, knowing I left them behind." 

For a few moments, Victoria found herself unable to speak. 

"I shall not argue with you," she said, eventually. "If I were in your situation, I might well make the same choice. Farewell, and I wish you a long and happy life." 

She embraced Alicia. Zoë contented herself with a handshake. 

"Thanks for everything you've done for us," she said. "We couldn't have got this far without you." 

"Ready to go back to the ship now?" Jolyon asked. 

Victoria squared her shoulders. "Ready." 

The journey back to the spaceship was slightly longer than the one that had brought them to the lakeside. At Victoria's suggestion, they made a detour to retrieve the miller's boat before it was dashed to splinters on a rock or drifted into some vital part of the millrace, and secured it to the mooring post where they had found it. 

"By the way," Zoë said, as the shuttle skimmed over the water. "All our other clothes are still at Alicia's house. And the rest of the luggage." 

"Let Cariana deal with it all," Victoria said. "If she chooses not to, let Alicia keep it. It may serve as some compensation for the trouble we have caused her." 

"As long as she doesn't get killed today by an asteroid, of course," Zoë said soberly. 

A few minutes later, they were once more standing in the main hold of the ship. The Doctor, along with several of the Yulosi, was again engaged in working on the device he had called the 'time shunt'. Tools, electronic components, and tablet computers were scattered around him. 

"Ah," he said, barely looking up. "Zoë. Just the person. Can you come and give me a hand with this circuit?" 

Zoë hastened across to where he was working. Victoria waited for a few moments, to see if he had any suggestions for her, and politely cleared her throat. 

"Yes, Victoria?" the Doctor said, his attention still on his work. 

"I thought I might go to the bridge," Victoria said. "And if the asteroid is still coming, I could try to contact Cariana and explain what's been happening." 

That seemed to touch a nerve. The Doctor looked up, quite sharply. 

"You can check the asteroid by all means," he said. "But I wouldn't speak to Cariana just yet. No, I don't think we're quite ready for that." 

"I see," Victoria lied. "Mr. Jolyon, might I go to the bridge?" 

"Of course." Jolyon held out his arm, which flexed into a shape no human arm could have matched. "Come with me." 

As Victoria left the hold, the last remark she heard was Zoë's exasperated voice. 

"What sort of schematics do you call these?" she was saying. "And half the components don't match them, anyway." 

⁂

Within a few minutes of her arrival on the bridge, Victoria knew the worst. And 'worst' was, unquestionably, the correct term for it: the asteroid was still on course, less than an hour away. Captain Samuel announced the news in a manner suggesting that this was a minor inconvenience, soon to be resolved. Victoria's inclination was to suspect him, and most if not all of his crew, of bravado. 

Her patience was even more sorely tried over the next forty minutes. The Captain, in what Victoria supposed was an attempt to distract her, took her to his quarters. There, sitting in a chair that was too big for her, she found herself watching what he described as a comic opera. Even with the Captain's helpful attempts at translation, she was unable to understand the lyrics or follow the plot; and to human eyes, the screen showed only dark silhouettes moving this way and that on a reddish background. Within her, her deeply ingrained politeness struggled to hold back the steadily rising sense of panic. 

She was nearly at the point of hurling herself to the floor, or screaming, or running from the room — anything to throw off the feeling of cold hands squeezing her heart — when the door slid open and the Doctor came in, Zoë at his heels. 

"Doctor!" Victoria cried, jumping to her feet. 

"I think we're as ready as we'll ever be," the Doctor said. He held out his arm to Victoria. "If you have no objections, Captain?" 

The opera cut off. 

"Is the time shunt ready?" Captain Samuel asked. 

"Well, as I said, it's as ready as it's going to be." 

"That sounds ready enough. Let's go." 

Within a minute they were standing on the bridge once more. The Doctor clasped his hands. 

"I think, before we try anything, we should try to establish communications with young Cariana," he said. "She's expecting to hear from you two, isn't she?" 

"That's what she said, anyway," Zoë said. 

"Well, then, it would be rude to disappoint her. Captain?" 

Captain Samuel waved his hand. "Can't do any harm, I suppose. Augustus, open communications. Full broadcast. See if you can attract this person's attention." 

Augustus, a tall, skinny Yulosi, bent over his control panel. Vaguely musical sounds, similar to those in the opera Victoria had suffered through, filled the air. 

"The transmitter's ready, Captain," he said. 

"Good." Samuel rose to his feet and stepped forward, into a circle that had been roughly painted on the floor of the bridge. "Oh, and could we for once do without the national anthem?" 

With bad grace, Augustus poked at the controls. The music, if such it was, broke off. 

"If you are a Time Lord called Cariana, this message is for you," Captain Samuel declared. "I've got two humans who say you left them on this planet four days ago. They want to speak to you." He stepped out of the circle. "Broadcast that on repeat and wait for a reply." 

The reply was not long in coming. Within a minute, Cariana's face appeared on the main viewscreen, in extreme closeup. Nothing could be seen behind her but a couple of pale green roundels. Her eyes fixed on that severe visage, Victoria found herself fighting the urge to curtsey. 

Cariana cleared her throat. "This is the lady Carianathriquesorianta. Who wishes to speak to me?" 

Zoë stepped into the circle, half-leading, half-dragging Victoria. 

"We do," she said. "You said you'd drop an asteroid on the area if you didn't hear from us. Well, now you're hearing from us." 

Cariana appeared unmoved. "And?" 

"And we've solved the problem with alien lifeforms getting into the ecosystem. So there's no need for the asteroid." 

"Let me check that." Cariana disappeared briefly, then reappeared. "Acknowledged. Have you located the Doctor?" 

"Here I am," the Doctor said, stepping into the circle behind Zoë. 

Cariana nodded curtly. "I see. Very well. I shall supply coordinates for you to rendezvous with my ship; at which point, the Doctor will deliver himself into my custody. I shall also require whichever one of you attempted, the day before yesterday, to create a time paradox." 

"What paradox?" The Doctor asked, bafflement and concern in his voice. 

Victoria could feel herself blushing. "Might we have a few words in private?" she asked. 

Augustus, at the control panel, touched a switch. "I've closed the channel," he said. "And in my opinion..." 

"You weren't asked," Captain Samuel said. "Now, what's all this about a paradox?" 

Victoria felt as if guilt, rather than blood, were running through her veins. "I believe it is something I did," she said. "Zoë, since you forget nothing, you will recall that when we were staying at Priory House, I wrote a letter." 

Zoë nodded. "And?" 

"It was to my father. I told him who I am, and urged him not to go into business with Mr Maxtible. Had he not done so, he would never have engaged in those experiments which brought the Daleks to our home." 

"Does that mean you wouldn't have met the Doctor?" 

"It does. I would be willing to forego all of my travels with the Doctor, to save my poor father's life." 

The Doctor patted her on the shoulder. "But if you hadn't travelled with me, you wouldn't have been at Priory House to write the letter... Oh dear, dear me. That must be the paradox that Cariana's talking about." 

Victoria squared her shoulders. "I could not have done otherwise. If Cariana punishes me for it, then so be it." 

"I shall take care that she doesn't," the Doctor said. 

"Are you sure you can do that?" Zoë asked. 

Looking at the Doctor's expression, it seemed to Victoria that Zoë had, unwittingly, touched a sore nerve. 

"No," he said eventually. "But I won't let her hurt you if I can help it." 

"In my opinion you'd be mad to trust her," Augustus put in. 

"You don't trust anyone except you," Captain Samuel said. "But maybe this time you've got a point. I'd say there's a lot she's not telling us." 

"I agree," Victoria heard herself say, and blushed again. "Why must we go to her? If she requires the Doctor and me, she must know where we are, and be able to capture us at will. She has already kidnapped me once." 

"I suspect it's down to her rules of engagement," the Doctor said. "The Time Lords are quite strict about following the proper procedure." 

"So if we stay where we are, we're safe," Zoë said. 

"Yes, until the asteroid hits us." The Doctor turned to Augustus. "Could you put me on again, please?" 

"If it was up to me I'd send her a strongly worded letter, copied to her embassy," Augustus said, and thumped a button on his control board. "You're through." 

The Doctor stepped into the circle. "Can you send us the coordinates, please?" 

Cariana smiled, humourlessly. "Of course, Doctor. In fact, I'll do more. The coordinates are now loaded into the navigation computer of that primitive tramp freighter—" 

In two strides Captain Samuel was at what, presumably, was the navigation computer. Its operator was already manipulating the controls, making whistling noises which Victoria took to be Yulosi profanities. 

"—You will find that it is not possible to override them. You have no option but to come to us, Doctor. We are prepared for every contingency." 

The Doctor shook his head. "Not so fast. Until I see proof that that asteroid's diverted, this ship isn't going anywhere." 

There was no change in Cariana's expression, and her voice was as calm and commanding as ever. "Then you will all die, along with numerous inhabitants of this time zone." 

"I don't think so. An event that big would cause too much risk to the course of history." 

"Time can be rewritten. The probabilities have been plotted and the margins of error calculated." 

"They're still probabilities, aren't they?" The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, and favoured the screen with a defiant look. "I think you'd rather not take the risk at all." 

"Of course. Remove that vessel from this time zone, and I shall have the asteroid diverted." 

"If that's the way you want it," the Doctor said. His expression and manner were of one who holds all the cards. "Of course, I should have realised that your superiors must have approved what you've done with the asteroid. Perhaps they came up with it themselves. I must congratulate them in person when I meet them." 

Cariana didn't answer. For a moment or two she glared at the Doctor; then she ducked out of shot. The Doctor, standing quietly in the circle, straightened his bow tie. 

"Do you mean—" Victoria began. 

"Doctor," Captain Samuel broke in. "The asteroid's gone. It just— vanished." 

"It didn't break up?" Zoë asked. 

"No, nor change its course. One moment it was there, the next it was gone." 

"Then it seems Cariana has kept her half of the bargain. It would only be fair for us to keep ours. Zoë, Victoria, stand with me." He lowered his voice. "And when I say, hold on tight." 

Victoria stepped into the circle, taking the Doctor's right hand in her left. 

"Hello?" the Doctor said. "Are you there?" 

Cariana reappeared on the screen. 

"The asteroid has been removed," she said. "And my patience is running out." 

"Very well." The Doctor squeezed Victoria's hand. "Captain Samuel, please could you switch the number three generator on?" 

"You're sure about this?" the Captain asked. 

"If you don't, I'm sure Cariana here will do it for you." 

Samuel's only spoken reply was a disdainful chirp, but he crossed to one of the ship's control panels, pressed a few buttons, and threw a large, important-looking switch. A low-pitched vibration ran through the ship's deckplates. 

"I'm glad to see you're being sensible, Doctor," Cariana said. 

The Doctor shook his head. "Oh, it's not just me you have to thank. I couldn't have done it without the help of these good people. Not least Victoria and Zoë, of course — if you hadn't sent them, your asteroid would have smashed all of us to pieces by now. And, you know, I think you're being a little unfair to insist on punishing Victoria for one misjudgement." 

"Save it for your trial, Doctor." 

"Oh, I intend to. Whenever that is." He paused for a moment, as if waiting for some cue only he could sense. "Now!" 

He hurled himself to the floor, dragging Victoria and Zoë down with him. As he did so, the ship's vibration rose suddenly in pitch, becoming a harsh, wasplike buzz. The deckplates seemed to ripple beneath them. 

"Augustus!" the Doctor called. "Break off the call!" 

If Augustus had not already been reaching for the appropriate control, the Doctor's order might well have been in vain. But as it was, he managed to hit the button an instant before the ship lurched wildly. Cariana's face vanished from the viewscreen, to be replaced by a dark blue sky in which stars were already becoming visible. 

"Everyone grab something!" Captain Samuel shouted, catching hold of a brightly-coloured handle attached vertically to the wall. 

"Don't they have seatbelts?" Zoë asked, as another lurch sent her, Victoria and the Doctor sliding across the floor. 

"They don't see the point," the Doctor replied. "Bumping into things wouldn't do them any serious damage, even at speeds that would hurt us badly." 

"But they'd still get broken bones, surely?" 

"They don't really have a skeleton as such." The sky in the viewscreen was now completely black. Stars pinwheeled crazily across it; the ship seemed to be spinning uncontrollably around all three axes. "Their equivalent is more of a hydraulic system." 

"That would explain how their sizes can vary so much," Zoë said. 

By now the spinning outside seemed to have transferred itself into Victoria's head. From second to second, she couldn't tell whether she was lying on the floor of the bridge, clinging to its ceiling, or sliding along one of its walls. Distances were distorting; the door, perhaps ten feet from her, looked close enough to touch one minute, as remote as the Moon the next. Jagged blue and gold lines of fire were coursing across the viewscreen. 

"Victoria?" It was Zoë's voice, seeming to come from a long way away. "Victoria, are you all right?" 

"I'm going to be sick," Victoria muttered, and knew as soon as she said it that she wasn't. It was as if what was happening around her had taken her beyond her usual tendency to travel sickness, and into some new realm of physical weakness. She closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping her grip on the Doctor's hand, and tried to keep herself from fainting.


	12. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zoë and Victoria take their leave.

When the ship's lurching and juddering eventually stopped, Victoria opened her eyes. The Doctor and Zoë were already climbing to their feet, but Victoria decided that for now, the floor remained the best place for her. 

"What the—" Captain Samuel's voice said, seeming to come from a great distance. "We're back at Croobsa Station!" 

"Yes, I know." The Doctor sounded on edge, as if he'd set off an alarm and was waiting to see what, if anything, would come in answer to it. "And about nine days in the past, if the time shunt was wired correctly." 

"I wired it to what you told me," Zoë said, sounding slightly offended. 

"Well, anyway, we need to get out of here before our Time Lady friend manages to find out where and when we've got to. I'm afraid we've got to hurry, Captain." 

"Don't worry," the Captain said. "I know what it's like when you need to get out of somewhere in a hurry." 

"When the local customs officials take exception to something in your cargo? Anyway, there's no time to lose." 

"Victoria?" Zoë was bending over her. "Are you all right? Can you walk?" 

On her third attempt, Victoria managed to stand. 

"I think so," she said. 

"Then let's go." Captain Samuel set off for the cargo bay at a brisk walk. The others followed, Victoria leaning on Zoë's arm for support. 

"By the way," Samuel said, as they hurried through the ship. "How did you get us away from there? Those coordinates really are locked into the navigation computer. Why didn't we end up where she wanted us?" 

"I asked Jolyon to take manual control," the Doctor said. 

"Jolyon? But he's a terrible helmsman. He came second to last in his class!" 

The Doctor beamed. "Exactly. Cariana had almost certainly projected how I might fly this ship. She might well have done the same for Victoria, or Zoë, or your normal navigator. But between Jolyon and a few modifications we made to the time shunt, we managed to shake her off. I'm afraid the navigation computer may need a few repairs." 

"Let's hope we can get it fixed again before she finds us," Samuel said. 

Before long, they had passed through one of the ship's outer airlocks — not one they had used before — and emerged into what looked like a warehouse. It was lit with the same red light that the Yulosi used for everything, and stacked high with every kind of merchandise. More Yulosi were bustling this way and that among the goods, with no time to spare for anything but the particular item of cargo they were concerned with. Standing quietly beside a stack of metal drums was the TARDIS, its blue paint looking black in the monochromatic glare. 

"Goodbye, Doctor," Captain Samuel said. "And good luck." 

"Good luck to you." The Doctor shook his hand. "I suggest, once you've reset your navigation computer, you keep away from Earth for a bit. Just in case Cariana tries to find me through you." 

"Right you are, Doctor," Samuel replied, and ducked back into his ship. The airlock closed behind him. 

"Now what?" Zoë asked. "That's your ship, isn't it? Do we go there?" 

The Doctor pulled out a battered-looking pocket watch. "Not yet. We're a few minutes too early." 

He pulled them down behind a stack of what, for all Victoria could tell, might have been weapons or vegetables. Through a small gap in the merchandise, it was possible to see the TARDIS. 

Victoria was not sure how long they waited, but while it was certainly more than the promised minute, it was probably less than five. The TARDIS door clicked open, and she saw a very familiar figure emerge, in checked trousers and a frayed coat. She glanced at the Doctor crouching beside her, wondering how he was contriving to be in two places at once. 

Once the other Doctor's footsteps had died away, the Doctor jumped to his feet and hurried to the TARDIS. He unlocked the door and dashed in. Left on the threshold, Victoria and Zoë exchanged polite glances, each indicating the other should go first. In the event, Zoë entered next, with Victoria bringing up the rear. 

The TARDIS was just as she remembered it, its white walls startlingly bright after all the time she'd spent in the red-lit Yulosi ship. The Doctor was already at the console, while Zoë was staring open-mouthed at her surroundings, her posture indicating utter bafflement. And on the far side of the room was Jamie, again exactly as Victoria remembered him. He appeared scarcely less confused than Zoë. 

"Doctor?" he began. "Did you forget something?" 

"Now, don't fuss, Jamie. I've got what I need." The Doctor produced a a number of baffling-looking circuits from his coat pocket. "Just give me a moment to hook them in, and we'll be on our way." 

"But those couldnae have been just outside the door!" Jamie protested. "You said you might be away for days. And where did yon two lassies—" He seemed to look at them properly for the first time. "Zoë? Victoria? Is that really you?" 

"Yes, Jamie," Victoria said. Her eyes were watering, and she didn't think it was just down to the change in the light. "It really is." 

Jamie bounded across the room towards them. For a moment he seemed to wrestle with the dilemma of which girl he should hug first; then he resolved the matter by gathering them both into his arms at once. 

"I'm glad you're back," he murmured. "Both of you." 

"How can I be 'back?'" Zoë asked. "I wasn't here before... was I? I've got the most terrible feeling of déjà-vu." 

"That comes of not eating properly," Jamie said. "I've told you before, what those food machines give you isnae enough for a growing lass." 

"Oh, Jamie! That's not what I meant at all!" 

Whatever Zoë had meant, Victoria was not to hear it. With the familiar thump and roar, the TARDIS engines came to life. Looking over Jamie's shoulder at the console, Victoria could see the Time Rotor rising and falling. With emotions so mixed she could never afterwards be sure what she was feeling, Victoria realised that her travelling days were far from over. 

⁂

Victoria had slipped away from the happy reunion as soon as it was polite to do so, and made her way through the TARDIS living quarters to what, on her previous travels, she had used as a sitting room. She had found it without difficulty, though the furniture was less tidy than she would have allowed. Now, seated in a high-backed chair, she was attempting to get her thoughts in order. It was by no means easy. 

"There you are!" Zoë's voice said. 

Victoria looked up. Jamie and Zoë were both standing in the doorway. Jamie looked as he had before, but Zoë had discarded her elaborate Regency costume in favour of a strange-looking black and white one-piece garment, decorated with a pattern that vaguely resembled butterfly wings. Her hair, still styled into formal ringlets, only made her appearance more incongruous. 

"The Doctor's been telling us about the Yulosi," Zoë went on, throwing herself into a sofa opposite Victoria. "They're fascinating creatures, from a biological point of view. Did you know they were oviparous r-strategists?" 

"I do not think so," Victoria said. "What is an oviparous r-strategist?" 

"I didn't understand a word of that either," Jamie said, with a grin. He sat down at the other end of Zoë's sofa, and spoke more seriously. "The Doctor sent us to find out how you feel. You know, you wanted to stay on Earth and now you're back here with us again." 

"I suspected as much." Victoria looked at his expression. It was plain that he, at least, very much hoped she could be persuaded to stay. "I confess that I have been in two or more minds about the prospect ever since Cariana first kidnapped me. In particular, whether this time it might ruin me forever, as it so nearly did before." 

She looked from Jamie to Zoë and back. Neither seemed disposed to speak, so she continued. 

"Zoë, you will doubtless remember my concerns about whether I had travelled with the Doctor for too long to fit into any time." 

Zoë nodded. "And if you were worried before, spending more time with the Doctor and us could only make things worse." 

"Precisely. On the other hand, I may have no choice but to remain on board the TARDIS. If Cariana is still pursuing me—" 

"Och, she'd not be the first to try and chase the Doctor," Jamie said, his tone suggesting that whatever Cariana's powers or abilities, she could be no more than a mild inconvenience to the Doctor. "She'll never catch him." 

"But if Victoria doesn't stay with us, Cariana might catch _her_ ," Zoë explained. 

"And then there's—" Victoria broke off, unable to find the words. How could she broach the question of whether Jamie had feelings for her, or she for him? Even if Zoë had not been there, she would have felt it quite impossible even to approach the subject. "Never mind," she said eventually. 

"I think you should stay," Jamie said firmly. 

"So do I," Zoë said. "I think you coped with everything very well. And without you I wouldn't have had a clue how to behave." 

Jamie looked from Victoria to Zoë in bewilderment. "Hang on. You mean _Victoria_ was telling _you_ what to do?" 

"Don't look so surprised, Jamie. When someone's got better knowledge of a subject than I have, it would be foolish not to recognise that." 

"Now I've heard it all." 

"There's one other thing," Zoë said. "Apparently I did travel with the Doctor before, but my memory of it was erased. Well, the Doctor says now it's going to start coming back." 

"Oh?" 

"And he says I might need some help while it's happening. You remember that nightmare I had back at Priory House? It's all part of the same phenomenon. Anyway, just in case I start walking in my sleep or something, the Doctor thinks it would be a good idea if you were around to keep an eye on me." 

Victoria felt a reluctant smile spreading across her face. Her mind, somehow, was already made up. 

"And tell you what to do?" she asked. 

"Someone's got to," Jamie said. "And Zoë never listens to me." 

Victoria climbed out of the chair, and took her seat on the sofa between the other two. 

"Enough squabbling," she said. "Very well. I shall travel with you once more, for as long as I can bear it." 

"That'll be a week, then," Jamie said. "You'll never put up wi' Zoë for longer than that." 

"Don't listen to him," Zoe urged Victoria. "He's just worried because we outnumber him." 

"I said 'enough,'" Victoria reminded them both. "Do you want me to change my mind?" 

Jamie cleared his throat. "Let's go and tell the Doctor what you decided." 

The three of them left the room together. Victoria found, briefly, time to reflect that if her most recent adventure had changed her, that did not mean it was for the worse. Four days ago, she would not have thought herself capable of extracting vital information from complete strangers, of keeping Zoe's high spirits in such effective check, of facing down an armed man, of directing the Doctor's rescue. And yet, she had found it within herself to do all of those things. 

She hurried after the other two, ready to face whatever the future had in store for her.


End file.
